


The Rhodes-Stark Parent Trap

by AmarieMelody



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Child death (but not really!), Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Kidfic, M/M, The Parent Trap AU, The Parent Trap done fucking right, like seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmarieMelody/pseuds/AmarieMelody
Summary: When Ayana Stark, a sweet princess of New York City, and Elena Rhodes, a carefree spirit of Calabasas, meet at summer camp they find out that they’re twins! But summer camp is to end soon and they want to see each other againandmeet and bond with the other girl’s father.Will the other girl’s father want and accept them? And can they put their heads together to delay the greedy, conniving Justin Hammer’s marriage to their Papa, Tony Stark, for as long as possible?They’re up to their adorable cornrows and afros in schemes and tricks! Join them for an incredible adventure as they set off the Rhodes-Stark parent trap!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A million and one thanks, first: 
> 
> To [Platonicharmonics](http://platonicharmonics.tumblr.com/), for helping me oh-so very, very much with getting this story's emotional tone, pacing, & grounding down. And then he was so, so, so, _so_ patient as I worked to get this story out. Thank you, friend! Thank you so very, very much and surprise!!! I love you!! 
> 
> Also thanks to [Zetsubonna](http://zetsubonna.tumblr.com/) for having a blast with me imagining just all the kinds of (lovable) messes of a father Tony would be and _especially_ for telling me the obvious in what Elena  & Ayana's middle names would be. 
> 
> And last, but certainly not least, thanks to [SpartanLady16](http://spartanlady16.tumblr.com/) for sticking with me, encouraging me, and staying interested with me as I labored with this. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! 
> 
> Now a few notes in regards to the story: 
> 
> 1.) If follow my _Harlem Lights_ series, ya'll know that I don't fuck with MCU!Tony Stark. So the Tony you see here is 616/comic!Tony Stark. Which brings me to the 2nd point...
> 
> 2.) I tagged this story as both MCU and comic because I'll be blending a _lot_ from both worlds in this story. I'm really just taking bits and pieces that I like/can work with, meshing them together in one, big, happy mess and then creating a story out of that. And finally...
> 
> 3.) Tony and Rhodey did not do create the [fucked up custody arrangement that Nick & Elizabeth did](http://blackgoliath.tumblr.com/post/145164131249/what-she-says-im-fine-what-she-means-what-the) way, way back in our beloved 1998's _The Parent Trap_ with Lindsay Lohan. I think we all would've seen the nastiest, ugliest, bloodiest custody battle in the history of custody battles before they came to such an agreement. 
> 
> So we'll have the original set-up of the movie, but rest assured that Rhodey and Tony didn't do it. 
> 
> There are a lot of things wrong with _The Parent Trap_ to the point where the movie's only power is how it coasts on its thematic strength, but falls all the way apart if you think too much about the plot. I won't do a wall of text here, but I hope that I successfully took what is loved  & can be salvaged and put it into a story that works not just thematic-wise, but plot-wise. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy and lemme know what you think, loves! :D

“…You. Again”, Roberta dryly noted. 

“Yes, me. Again”, Maria quietly confirmed. 

It’s silent for all of five seconds in the open doorway of the Rhodes’ house. It’s a five seconds wherein Roberta Rhodes doesn’t invite Maria Stark inside from the cool night but also doesn’t tell her to go back where she came from and stay the fuck away from her house and her family. And then Roberta’s eyes drift down to the large square package and Starbucks carton held in Maria’s hands. 

“So whatchu done brought me _this_ time?” 

A glimmer of a smile comes to Maria’s lips. “Cheescake. From the Cheesecake Factory. I-I asked James once in passing and he said that you enjoy lemon meringue pie. So I thought…we could enjoy some together. And some coffee, this time the veranda blend. And there’s certainly more than enough for your husband, Terrence, to enjoy, too.” 

An answering glimmer of a smile comes to Roberta’s own lips. “Welp. I guess tonight’s your lucky night since I just got done washing the dishes.” 

She walks back into her house and leaves the door open. Over her shoulder, she calls out, “I used a dishwasher, too. Y’ever heard of a dishwasher before?” 

Maria grins as she steps over the threshold and closes the door behind her with her hip. She stays just inside the door to slip out of her high heels, careful to leave them on the welcome mat and not on the wood. Roberta has already disappeared, but Maria already knows the layout of the house and easily follows her into the dining room. 

“I actually can’t say that I’ve _heard_ of one”, Maria replies. “But ‘M pretty sure I’ve seen one before. So if you were to show me one, I just might recognize it, even if I didn’t know the name.” 

“Well ain’t that just _lovely_ of you?” Roberta coos with sickly sweetness. 

Roberta sighs quietly to herself as she gets out two plates, two coffee mugs, cutlery, and extra napkins. Maria sets the treats on the dining room table, mindful of the potted sunflowers in the middle. She takes off her coat, sets it on the back of the chair, and then goes about opening the containers. 

Roberta walks into the dining room from the kitchen, and then it’s silent as they routinely prepare for enjoying a late night cheesecake and coffee. Maria, as usual, takes everything from Roberta’s hands and sets the table herself. Roberta has since learned not to try to help and just sits down and relaxes. Maria finally finishes setting the table and works on cutting them slices of lemon meringue cheesecake and pouring them veranda blend coffee. 

And then Maria is sitting down right across from Roberta and it is silent still as the two women add cream and sugar to their coffee as they desire and tuck into their cheesecake. 

“D’you like it?” Maria quietly asks. 

Roberta stabs a piece of creamy white frosting, holds it up to the light, and then pops it in her mouth. She replies, “It’s expensive.” 

Maria allows herself a small smile. 

Roberta counts her sips of coffee before the other woman opens her mouth to say what she came all the way from her home in New York City to Philadelphia to say. 

_One, two, three sips…_

_Four, five, six sips…_

_Seven, eight, n-_

“It’s done. It’s final.” 

Roberta concentrates on refilling her coffee and adding another cream. “Yeah. Jim already told me jus’ this morning.” 

Maria concentrates on swirling her frosting all over her cheesecake. “Jim told me too. I even got to see their signatures with the ink dried.” 

“Huh.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Their concentration breaks. They pause to look out of the windows, between the softly billowing curtains to gaze out at the cool Philadelphia night. Right before he went to bed, Terrence cracked the windows to let just a little bit of the refreshing breeze into the house for his wife. And now everything is so calm and quiet and serene. 

If only their boys’ lives could’ve been just like this for the past three and a half years. 

Instead, both of their sons are twenty-one-years-old (and were married at seventeen-years-old) and already Roberta and Maria can say that they’ve been divorced. 

Just twenty-one-years-old and divorced. 

Neither one of them ever pretended that they don’t know how it came to this. Neither one of them ever pretended that they didn’t know it _would_ inevitably come to this. 

And as much as Roberta Rhodes has tried to despise Maria Stark and as much as Maria Stark has tried to act like she doesn’t know why she shows up uninvited at Roberta Rhodes’ house in the middle of the night with treats, neither of them pretends that they don’t find something comforting in these late night dates. Neither one of them pretends that it’s not therapeutic. 

Therapeutic for their shared guilt. Their shared exhaustion. Their shared heartbreak. 

“Jim…” Maria starts. “Jim will…he’ll be happier this way. I know it.”

Roberta raises an eyebrow. “Course you know it; after this, you still want to check in on him like he’s your own son.” She points a finger at the other woman. “Stop forgetting who gave birth to James and who gave birth to that other boy. Ain’t nothin’ mixed up there and you damn well know it.”

“I do know it”, Maria agrees with an apologetic smile. “It’s just that I’ve come to love James, too. Very, very much.” 

“And I love Tony…especially when he acts like he got some sense in his head and something pumping blood in his chest”, Roberta carefully says. 

“I don’t blame you.” 

Maria grips her coffee mug. “I know it’s far too little, too late and it’s hollow, but I truly am sorry for Tony’s-”

Roberta’s eyes snap over to the other woman. Her eyes are equally distant and intense and her voice is just on the edge of hoarse. “ _Are_ you? Are you _really_?” 

“ _Yes_. Yes, I am. I really, truly am. Again, I know it’s not enough for you and your family, but there’s truly no other way for me to be. Roberta. I am _sorry_ ”, Maria stresses. 

Roberta closes her eyes and massages her forehead. She can’t tell if it’s a brand new migraine coming on or brand new tears. 

Maria sighs. “It’s…Tony just has too much of his father in him. Way, way too much of Howard. That boy cares about his loved ones so much that he conveniently struggles to so much as make eye contact and say ‘I love you’. Knows how to do fancy engineering problems in his head, but implodes if you ask to hold his hand. Just…too much fucking Howard.” 

Roberta doesn’t open her eyes. “Yeah, and that’s what counts, huh? Smart enough to do big ass, complicated numbers quick in your head, but not smart enough to know how to treat people. Let alone the people that love you and you love in return.” 

“Exactly and I…I know, Roberta. I know. I do.” Maria takes a gamble in reaching out for Roberta’s hand and warmly squeezing. Somehow, she’s not surprised when the squeeze is returned. “It’s not just Howard’s fault; it’s mine, too, for not stopping so much of his influence before it was too late.” 

“Heh.” Roberta opens her eyes and gazes down at their joined hands. “…But you still want my James as your own son. Y’gotta admit that, at least.” 

“Yeah, so? You raised a fine boy. _Everyone_ would love to have a son like James.” 

Roberta’s eyes slowly trail back up to Maria’s face. “…Yeah, and your ass is so spoiled that you would just push everyone else outta the way to grab him first and run.” 

Maria smiles a slow, slow smile. “…I brought you gourmet cheesecake and coffee. So I think it’s a fair trade-in, y’know. I mean, you could be just as gracious to me as I am to you.”

“Ehhh…bring me another round a’gourmet cheesecake and coffee”, Roberta replies. A matching slow, slow smile graces her lips. “And I’ll _think_ about giving you my James. Deal?” 

“Deal!” 

The two women laugh and…and as out of place as it sounds, as uncommon as it feels…

They need it. They need this laughter. 

They soon reluctantly let go of each other’s hands and resume eating. 

It’s a while before Roberta breaks the silence. Her voice is soft, tentative. 

“Hey, you heard the…other news, right? The good news?” 

Maria’s eyes come alight. “I did, Roberta. Indeed, I did. Tony and James finally came to an agreement on it and it’s- _they_ -are beautiful.” 

Roberta’s eyes, too, alight. “Yeah. Three and a half years and they finally chose our grandbabies’ names. Ain’t heard such beautiful names in a long, long time.” 

“The most _beautiful_ names anyone’s _ever_ heard”, Maria agrees. 

_Elena._

_Ayana._

-

“…Excuse me?” James asks, low and forceful. 

Morris Kneller, overworked and jaded social worker, sighs and takes off his glasses. He leans away from his cluttered desk to clean his spectacles on the hem of his shirt. He’s 36-years-old with blue eyes that are in turn droopy and shrewd, hair greying at the temples, and a mouth that would twist before it smiles. His cluttered office often sports stacks of paperwork taller than him. 

Kneller puts his glasses back on his face and peers back at the kid sitting on the other side of his desk. James Rhodes is sitting ramrod straight in his chair and hotly glaring him down and he hasn’t _stopped_ glaring him down ever since he relayed the news. 

Well. 

The “news” is actually a _lie_ , but goddammit, if it made Kneller’s job easier for once _and_ was actually going to help the kid across from him, it’s going to be news as far as he was concerned. 

And that stood true even if it meant having to tell such a lie to a halfway-enjoyable kid like James Rhodes. 

Kneller clears his throat and delicately folds his hands atop his desk. He plasters on his most sympathetic face and voice. “Yes, James. I’m afraid it’s true. I understand that…this is difficult for you to swallow while you and your husband are going through divorce proceedings and-”

James cuts him off, now hard and grating. “ _Ex._ Everything was actually finalized as of yesterday.” 

Genuine surprise bleeds through Kneller’s plaster. His bushy eyebrows shoot up over his glasses. Even with just about everything going from paper to electronic, the damn system still takes too long to tell him things. “O-oh! Indeed?” 

“Indeed.” 

Kneller pushes his glasses up his nose and puts the plaster on blast. “Well, James, I’m sure that you and your ex-husband will be able to move forward in this new chapter of your lives.” 

Internally, Kneller can’t help but think that it was finally good _fucking_ riddance for the kid currently across from him. He hadn’t thought too much of them as a couple when he’d only first read their file as one of his latest clients. But as soon as they sat down in front of him just three years ago, smiling and giggling like the newborn-baby-newlyweds they were…he couldn’t figure it out. He couldn’t figure _them_ out. 

He couldn’t figure out what in all the hell a kid like James saw in…a kid like the one he married. See, James honestly is a halfway-enjoyable one. He’s such a good, outstanding kid hailing from less-than-humble beginnings; he’s gotten top marks in all of his classes and at the incredible age of twenty-one has already graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in some advanced, fancy aeronautics or aerodynamics field that Kneller couldn’t pronounce even if he tried. He’s got a smile and eyes that light up whole city blocks and a laugh that’s effortlessly infectious. 

It’s Kneller’s professional opinion that, at the ripe old age of seventeen, James could’ve married just about anyone in MIT-anyone in the _world_ -that he wanted. 

But he fell in love with and married that…that other kid. That insufferable kid. 

That _Stark_ kid. 

And not even for the Stark kid’s family’s money. 

Now look where it got James-at twenty-one-years-old, he sits here in Kneller’s cluttered, cramped office more miserable and exhausted than a good kid like him should ever be. 

Well, no matter. Kneller is lying to him about this for his own good. It’s best if James has any and all potential legal ties to that Stark brat severed once and for all. Hell, it’s even what’s best for that Stark one; that boy doesn’t need to be tied to James or anyone else unless and until he learns how the fuck to be in a relationship with someone, much less be married to someone. 

James’ voice cuts through his silent musing. His glare is reaching smoldering temperatures and his voice is just on the edge of boiling. “Since the issue of our divorce is out of the way, perhaps you can double check that what you just told me is true?” 

Kneller nods and makes a brand new plastic show of clicking and typing on his ancient computer. He adds to the show by chewing on his lip and squinting at the screen over his glasses every now and then. He keeps up the act for a full five minutes while James sits and tries not to wring his hands. 

The longer Kneller keeps his show up to make it convincing, the more James’ hands wring. Just a little longer and James’ foot is tapping on the rough floorboards. His eyes grow damp and flit from the broken clock to the file cabinets to the dusty window blinds to the plain hanging lamp and back to the broken clock. Though he struggles to hide it, Kneller can hear his breathing grow shallow and uneven. That anger is steadily crumbling into a grieving panic and it will be calmed down not one bit in the near future. 

Kneller’s watched this kid hold himself up and together while working his ass off to stay on top of his education and struggling to stay in a marriage he never should’ve agreed to. For four years, James Rhodes has been holding himself up and together with _nothing_ and now…now…

Now Kneller is about to give him this news and that means he’s going to have a front-row seat to James Rhodes _breaking_. 

It’s nearly just enough to break Kneller’s heart, crush his resolve and make him consider just coming clean with James. 

But if he came clean now…well, that’d make an even bigger, harder mess for him to clean up and he’s exasperated and exhausted enough as is. 

It’s by the time that James is chewing on his lip that Kneller decides it’s time to put an end to this part of the show. He pretends to click on one last thing, heaves a great, dramatic sigh, and finally turns back to James. 

“I’m so sorry, but-”

James leans out of his chair and cuts him off. Those brown eyes aren’t getting any drier. “No. _No._ You got it wrong. Y-you got the wrong girls-”

Kneller winces. “James, kid-” 

“Look, ‘Elena’ and ‘Ayana’. Both of them ‘Rhodes-Stark’.”

“I know, James. But-”

“Tony and I, w-we understand they’re preemies, but the doctors didn’t say anything about…‘bout…” James trails off as the dampness in his eyes nearly spills over and a wrenching sob is torn from his throat. A shiver ripples through him and he buries his face in his hands. 

_Damn_ , this kid is making it hard on him- _really_ hard. 

Kneller heaves yet another great, dramatic sigh. “James, kiddo…I know. Here…” He pushes his squeaky office chair back to open one of his desk drawers and pull out a fresh, unused box of Kleenex. He opens it and slides it across the desk for James. 

But James can’t even bring his face out of his hands to notice it. 

It brings another hit to Kneller’s resolve and another, and then another. But the thought of that damned Stark kid hanging around James for even a minute longer than necessary keeps Kneller steady. 

Still, James struggling-and failing-to hold back is a sight that hurts something awful. Sighing for the nth time, he gets out of his chair, comes around to James’ side of the desk and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

James will be alright, Kneller decides. 

Besides, James is still getting a baby in his arms. 

The same baby.

-

“…What”, the Stark kid demands just a few days later. 

The little shit sits in the chair opposite Kneller like it’s his fucking throne. He looks just as exhausted, just as broken hearted as James did. 

And when Kneller relays the same false news to Stark, his exhaustion and heartbreak only intensify. 

But Kneller could give less than a damn; serves the little bastard right for the hell he put James through. 

He can’t stand Stark, but whereas James is a normal-yes, _normal_ -kid, he’s a walking, talking powerhouse in almost every sense of the word. Just because Stark is largely unfamiliar with the system doesn’t mean he couldn’t be just two phone calls away from calling out Kneller’s lies and costing him his bread and butter in the process. 

Hell, the unlucky woman that birthed him into this world bought a whole mansion as a wedding present for him and her new son-in-law. The mansion is situated in Somerville, just outside of Boston where the Stark brat attended school with James. And so rather than go back to his original mansion in New York City, Stark has been staying in the Somerville mansion just to stay close as the adoption proceedings continue. Hell, as of right now, he most likely intends to stay put in Somerville to raise the daughter Kneller is legally required to give to him. 

Oh, the brat comes from money. Lots and lots and lots of money. 

And so Kneller has to be more careful here; he has to toe the line here. Gotta be gentler, slower, quieter. 

_Delicate._

Whereas James’ glare was smoldering hot, Stark’s glare is icy cold. He glares down Kneller with burning blizzards for eyes and he’d be intimidated if he didn’t despise the kid so much. 

He clears his throat and does his best to put on the same plaster that he did for James. He folds and unfolds his hands as he peers over his glasses at Stark. “Yes, I understand that it’s difficult. But I’m afraid-”

That blizzard turns to cold steel. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me immediately?” 

“I told James-”

“My ex-husband and I don’t speak to each other anymore. You would’ve known that if you told both of us about this shit on the same day.”

Kneller blinks slowly, some of the plaster falling away in as many times. “…You two don’t speak to each other…at all anymore?” 

“No, we don’t.” 

_Good for James, then. He’s staying on the right track. And this will make everything even easier than I thought._ “I am so sorry to hear that, Mr. Stark. Surely you and James will now be able to-”

“What you just told me. Work your fucking magic on that dinosaur you call a computer and check it. _Triple_ check it”, he demands. 

Kneller grinds his teeth down, but outwardly smiles and nods at the entitled little bastard. He gives Stark the same show he gave James: still more plaster on his face as he goes about pretending to type and click all over his computer. Just out of sheer spite, he lets it last longer than he did with James. 

The Stark brat doesn’t stay seated while Kneller pretends to work-he gets up and starts strolling around his damn office like he owns every single square inch. Kneller watches him from the corner of his eye as he glares at this file cabinet, sneers at this dusty, rotating fan blade, raises his eyebrow at that stack of folders. 

He’s still in the corner of Kneller’s eye when Kneller catches his jaw clenching. The kid’s jaw clenches so tight that he just might break his teeth with the pressure. Stark’s jaw clenches even more and then those icy, selfish eyes are blinking back dampness. More than once, the uneven breath he takes in makes his shoulders shudder and cave in. The more Kneller pretends to type, the more Stark doesn’t know what the hell to do with his hands; one minute, he stuffs them deep, deep in his pockets, the next minute he’s fiddling with his jacket’s zipper, and then another he’s running his hands through his hair. That dampness is about to spill over any second now. 

It’s just like James’ anger steadily dissolving into that grieving panic that won’t be assuaged any time soon all over again. 

Except that this time it’s not hitting Kneller’s resolve in the least. James deserves to be as free as possible from this selfish, spoiled little shi-

“Are you done _yet_?” Stark snaps. 

Kneller plasters an empathetic smile and looks up at the brat over his glasses. “Almost, Mr. Stark. Almost. Why don’t you have a seat and-”

“If I wanted to stay seated, I would’ve stayed seated. Just hurry the fuck up.” 

Kneller is about to hurl the monitor at this little horror’s head. “Of course. I merely thought that you’d calm down better if-”

“I’m not fucking capable of calming down. At all”, Stark grits out. “Don’t _think_. Just do your damn _job_.” 

_This is why you’re twenty-one and divorced. Your own mother wanted to keep James permanently away from you._ “Yes, Mr. Stark. Right away.” 

Kneller goes back to his show on the computer and Stark goes back to struggling-and failing-not to break down. It’s only through the desire to get Stark out of his office as soon as possible that makes Kneller bring his show to a stop. 

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he sits back from his keyboard. He ramps up the false sympathy in his eyes and announces, “I apologize, Mr. Stark. I really, truly, deeply apologize.” 

Stark completely stops in his tracks, whirls around, and stares at Kneller with eyes that are way too bright and none too dry. He stands stock still, but there’s something about to burst and release and it’s not going to be contained ever again. 

It’s dead silent in the office. Kneller keeps up his show; Stark loses yet more control over his impending break down and he staggers away from Kneller. 

Kneller clears his throat in what he hopes is a sympathetic sound. He leans out of his chair. “Mr. Stark, it’s-”

“We waited for them for three years. _Three years_ -nearly the entirety of our fucking marriage”, he brokenly grits out between his teeth. 

Kneller makes a show of sadly taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. He puts them back on with another sigh. “I know, Mr. Stark; believe me, I am just as disappointed-”

“- _‘Disappointed’?!_ ”

“-but as you know in this industry, next to nothing is promised”, Kneller calmly continues. “That’s true even if all previous paperwork would’ve said otherwise.” 

“Then call someone. Write someone. Do something. _Now._ ”, Stark pleads. “If nothing is promised, then this isn’t promised, either. There must’ve been a mistake-this _is_ a mistake.” 

“Mr. Stark-”

“We already named them”, he chokes out. “Did you know that? Did my Rhodey tell you that?” 

_He’s not ‘yours’ anymore and thank god._ “Yes, he did. And they’re beautiful names-”

“Elena and Ayana. Rhodes-Stark. That’s our twins’ names. They-”

“And as I previously stated, those twins are deceased. But you are _more_ than welcome to name your new child either of those names-”

“ _No._ I-”

“James is doing that”, Kneller soothes through his teeth. “James has accepted receiving a new, different baby girl and he’s going to name her ‘Ayana’ or ‘Elena’. I’m more than allowed to draw up the paperwork to allow him to do that and it’s the same with you.” 

“…And the new ‘Ayana’ and ‘Elena’ won’t be sisters, much less twins, will they?” Stark whispers brokenly. 

“No, I’m afraid they will not”, Kneller lies quietly. 

Stark trembles where he stands and then buries his face in his hands not unlike James did just a few days before. And hell, by now it’s nearly enough to make Kneller regret this entire lie and call it off.

But no-this is for the best and, besides, if he comes clean then Stark may very well cost him his job. So instead, Kneller just sighs again and proffers the tissue box to Stark, who can’t even bring his face out of his hands to notice it. 

Well. 

Stark is still getting a baby in his arms. 

The same baby. 

-

Kneller informs both boys that their “new” daughters will be ready in about a week.

That’ll give him more than enough time to further forge their twins’ documents and cover his tracks.  
-

As James packs, his mind stays blank. 

Blissfully, thankfully blank. 

He focuses mechanically on the dresser opening and closing as he removes more and more of his clothing, on the opening and closing zippers of his bags, on the opening and closing of the closet door, of the shifting bed as his luggage grows heavier and fuller atop it. 

He’s closer and closer to getting out of dorm room 12B once and for all. 

Every now and then a good handful of his former classmates came over to say goodbye and congratulations. Some of them even brought him flowers and cards with little, inspiring messages on the inside. And even more exchanged numbers with him and made him promise to keep in touch, to not be a stranger no matter what great things he does or where he goes. 

Though James appreciated each and every person that dropped by, he had to pull up a strength he didn’t have to smile, to nod, to promise, to accept and say ‘thank you’. And now he’s alone in what was his and To-

His ex-husband’s. 

He’s wonderfully, happily alone in what was his and his ex-husband’s dorm room. As of right now, it looks like he’s done with visitors and so he basks in the sustained quiet. His cellphone lays on his nightstand, silent and unbothered; he knows his mother and father agreed to let him call them first if anything…changed…but he hasn’t done that yet. 

Not just yet. 

And there’s no one else that James can think of that will call him. Still, every several minutes or so, James will pick up his cellphone and stare at the lack of calls and messages. 

And each time he pretends that he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. 

James lets a little-just a little-bit of thoughts bleed through the blankness of his mind. He graduated MIT with top honors, just like his ex. Because of his marks and a whole lot of his professors’ recommendations, he’s got a sweet, sweet Air Force assignment ready and waiting for him way, way on the other side of the country in the Edwards Air Force Base near Calabasas, California. It’ll be far, far away from here in Massachusetts. 

It’s sure as shit is far, far away from New York City. 

And in just a few days, James…James will have his new daughter. Kneller will call him and James will blink, and he’ll have her in his arms. He can name her ‘Elena Rhodes’ or ‘Ayana Rhodes’. He’ll take her all the way with him and his parents to Calabasas. 

A profound surge of hope shoots through James’ heart at the thought. He’ll…he’ll take her away from the bullshit here, but will at least bring her back to the east often so she’ll know her family’s roots, her family’s home in Philadelphia. His parents enthusiastically agreed that she’ll stay with them if or when he gets deployed so that she’ll have steady roots in Calabasas. And she’ll be surrounded by nice, clear Cali sky and fresh, open Cali air. 

He’ll make her homemade, fluffy pancakes in the mornings, hearty grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches in the afternoons, and juicy grilled chicken and sautéed veggies in the evenings. He’ll build her a treehouse-her very own treehouse that’s hers and hers alone. And he’ll teach her how to play catch, how to play soccer, how to play hopscotch. He’ll teach her all about planes and cars and mechanics and mathematics and she’ll sit right with him and tinker with him. 

And a treehouse. James will most definitely build her a treehouse. 

James lets those fresh and hopeful thoughts race through his mind as he continues packing. He has to get his PSP off the other nightstand on the other side of the bed. But he trips over one of his sweaters, ends up landing on his knees next to the nightstand and-

There are fragments of something. There are fragments of something halfway next to the nightstand’s wobbly corners and halfway under the bed. They’re halfway illuminated by the lamp and halfway in shadow. James picks up one of the bigger fragments in his hand and looks at it. 

It’s a piece of his vintage model of the World War II fighter-bomber North American P-51 Mustang. Tony…Tony bought it for him as a wedding present just one week before the special day. It’s a real vintage model that cost a fortune and then some to procure, but Tony insisted that “my Rhodey” deserved the best and only the best. 

And James remembers that as soon as he unwrapped it, he shot through the damn roof, through the whole damn building. He can’t remember all the things he screeched as he threw himself into Tony’s arms and clasped him tight. Tony laughed, hugged him back, and said _‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome honey!’_ over and over again. When James lamented that he hadn’t gotten Tony a present-let alone a present that cost a fucking mortgage payment and then some-Tony waved him away. He told James that just agreeing to marry him was the best present anyone had ever given him. 

They spent the rest of the damn day just lounging on their bed, jabbering and blabbering about James’ new P-51 Mustang model. 

The model really _was_ an amazing thing. It was just big enough that he had to hold it with two hands and it came with a little hook and durable cords so that he could hang it up from the ceiling if he so chose. James wasted many an hour or two just gazing fondly at his wedding gift and Tony would waste those same hours watching James gaze at it. Every single last detail of the original plane had been painstakingly replicated on the model; from the deft rotator blades to the black-white-yellow paintjob and from the supercharged Packard V-1650 Merlin engine to the little pilot’s seat was perfect. 

And Tony smashed it. 

It was during one of their many, many, _many_ fights. In a fit of rage, Tony snatched it off their shared computer desk and launched it at the opposite wall where it immediately shattered upon impact and rained down to the floor. James can’t forget the silence that followed, the silence that was somehow both pregnant and deadened. But then James can’t remember if he then punched Tony right in the face in his own fit of rage or if he burst out of the room, struggling to choke back sobs. 

It could’ve been both. 

He does remember that that was the last time his mother-in-law, Maria, let Tony stay at the Stark Somerville Estate with James during their weekends and holiday breaks. Maria bought the Somerville Estate as a surprise wedding present and it was just outside of MIT’s Boston, so that James and Tony could go there-go to a _home_ -every weekend as they liked. Meanwhile, the main Stark Estate was still in New York City and, for extended holiday visits, they switched between it and James’ parents’ Philadelphia. 

But with ice cold imperiousness, she told her son to book his own hotels until he knew how to act like a human being and could show his face in one of her houses. 

But it was at that point that James tiredly declined staying at the Stark Massachusetts Estate or the Stark New York Estate. He couldn’t stay in any Stark home. He told his mother-in-law that this time he just wanted to go back home to Philadelphia with his parents. Maria, though teary-eyed, immediately understood and personally flew with him back to his own home that holiday. His parents looked none-too-pleased at the sight of Maria and none-too-subtly told her to get out of their house as soon as possible. Maria didn’t blame them; she only insisted that they call her if they needed anything. 

And even though James was in Philadelphia, Maria still didn’t let Tony back in her home. 

That was the first of many irreparable cracks in their marriage. 

James’ eyes trail up from the fragment in his hand to look at the leftover dent in the wall. It is a dent barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. But it is a dent that James feels as surely as if it were in his own heart. 

Just like he feels the fragment of what was once his plane model as surely as he feels fragments in his own heart. 

But it’s just a dent and they’re just fragments. It’s over, now. Over, said, and done. 

He tosses the fragment away and continues packing. 

-

As Tony builds, his mind stays blank. 

Thankfully, blissfully blank. 

He focuses mechanically on the task of assembling the pink designer basket-style bassinet. More and more of the parts rapidly come together, creating the whole bassinet that was advertised on the box. He didn’t bother to even take the instructions out of the box; he already knew what needed to go where and how just by looking at the parts. And he’s already halfway done in less than ten minutes with the rest of the nursery to do. 

His daughter’s-his _new_ daughter’s-nursery is an absolute mess in the making. Tony concentrates on the mess, lets the mess consume his thoughts until his mind is little more than comfortable white noise. There are still about a dozen or so more things to assemble and organize: her rainbow-themed changing station; her oak wood rocking chair; her giant, imported-from-Italy toy box; her animal-themed baby mobile; her orange-and-purple colored highchair; and a whole host of other things. 

Right next to him sits his cellphone. At random intervals Tony will flip it open and his thumb will hover over the dial pad to…to…

He flips the phone closed and puts it back down. He gets back to work. 

He pretends he doesn’t know what he was going to do. 

Despite his mother and Jarvis’ multiple offers to help him, Tony declined over and over again. He could do all of this by himself-he _needed_ to do this by himself. He can do this; he can take care of and provide for his own child just like any other parent can. And when he’s all done, this will be a nursery worthy of a princess. 

And just like any princess, she’ll need good, nutritious food to eat. He’ll work hard to cook her-

Tony stops and a hopeless, half-delirious laugh leaves him. Ah, that’s right-he struggles like _hell_ to cook. He doesn’t do guides and instructions and routines and so working in the kitchen quite often becomes experiments that may or may not be safely edible. Why place a steak on a pan when he could blowtorch it and see what happens? Why only put two cups of water in with the rice when he could put five cups and see what happens? 

It’s practically the same with cleaning. Tony vividly remembers the time he told Jarvis that he wanted to practice mopping the floor before his daughters- _one_ daughter now-came home. His child will need a nice, clean house. But when Jarvis handed him the Swiffer mop and the container of Mr. Clean for the kitchen floor, Tony sneered and tried to be adventurous by mixing vinegar and bleach. 

Both Jarvis and his mother banished him from the kitchen for three weeks after that. The only one who held him, comforted him, and laughed at him with fond, gentle exasperation was Rh-

Tony takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to refocus his attention on the bassinet. He forces himself not to pick up his cellphone again. 

So he struggles to…to do shit that’s _ordinary_ and _normal_ and very much required around the household like a proper father should be able to do. Fuck, he couldn’t even do them as a husband and now-

Yet another deep, shuddering breath. 

He’ll try, though; he’ll try so motherfucking hard that something will be sure to change. He’s going to learn how to focus, how to pay attention to and respect instructions, guidelines, and routines because those things are goddamn _mandatory_ when it comes to cooking things that his child will put in her mouth, in her body so she can live and grow healthy and strong. And he’s going to learn how to clean properly so that she’ll live in a nice, clean, safe home. 

No matter how fucking long it takes him, he’s going to do it. He’s going to become better at it. Jarvis and his mother will have to help and take over from him a lot, but it’s going to happen. 

In the meantime, Tony will keep building her things. Wonderful things, beautiful things. This nursey in her infancy is just the beginning. He’ll build her a dainty little table and dainty little chairs to go with the china tea set that he’ll buy her. He’ll monogram her name on that tea set, too. He’ll build her little custom shelves and dollhouses for her collection of dolls-she _will_ have a whole collection to choose from with a plethora of natural hairstyles. He’ll teach her all about cars and more cars and mechanics and mathematics and she’ll sit right with him and tinker with him. 

And a monogrammed china tea set. Tony will most definitely buy her a monogrammed china tea set. 

He’s not…

He’s not Howard. 

He’s not. 

Tony is putting the finishing touches on the toy box when his mother comes in. She stands right in the doorway of the in-process-nursery and he can tell that she leans against the doorjamb. He studiously pretends not to notice her presence; he doesn’t even look up from the screwdriver in his hand. 

But he should look at her. He came home from Kneller’s and told both her and Jarvis what happened and…

He never knew a house could be so quiet. 

His mind shies away from the remembrances of his mother and Jarvis’ face after he relayed the news to them even as he knows he’ll never forget it. Right now as his mother stands in her future grandchild’s doorway, Tony is sure that her face is outwardly unreadable, maybe even neutral. Her arms are probably crossed, soft and casual, without a single hint of outward tension. 

But he still can’t look at her.

He may not be his father, be he’s still a coward in a multitude of ways. 

The silence goes on and Tony twists the wrench just a bit too hard on a bolt in the toy box’s lid. He reluctantly stops his work to double check that nothing’s broken and, satisfied, he continues. 

His mother’s voice finally sounds. Softly, faintly it sounds. “…Tony?” 

He stops once more, looks up at her, and sees every single thing he predicted he’d see. It’s through a strength he doesn’t have that he forces himself to keep eye contact with her. “Hmm?” 

She undoes and redoes the tie around her silk robe. Brushes her long, tangled hair back. Glances all around her granddaughter’s bright pink nursery with tired, puffy eyes. She looks back at him. 

“Tony, is there…someplace you should be right now?” 

“No, I don’t think so”, he quietly replies. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

It’s silent again. So, so silent. He looks back down to work on the toy box. And then he can hear his mother retreating from the nursery doorway. 

“Alright, Tony”, she quietly relents. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight.” 

He briefly glances up. “G’night, Mom.” 

She disappears from his sight and then he’s working as hard as ever. He doesn’t know how much time passes when he stops to pick his cellphone up again. He flips it open, hovers his thumb over the dial pad to…to…

He snaps the phone closed and tosses it away far, far away from him. 

He gets back to work.

\- 

James is almost done packing. Damn, he brought so much shit with him that it’s taken more than a minute. Once he fills this suitcase with the last of his clothes, all that’s left to do is scour the room to triple check that he didn’t forget anything. 

And he’s already mustered up courage he didn’t have to tell his parents…the news. He hated that he could only tell them such a thing over the goddamn phone. 

James will never forget the resounding, echoing silence at the other end of the line when he told them that Elena and Ayana are-

He never knew that a phone could sound so silent. 

The silence only ended when he tearfully asked them if they’d go through the trouble of coming all the way up here from their home in Philly and come get him and their new granddaughter so that they could all fly to Calabasas together. They promptly told him that, as soon as their budget is right (because they all still have to pay for the tickets to Calabasas), they’ll book the soonest flight possible. He doesn’t have to worry about a thing. 

That silence still rings in his ears, in his mind. 

But he’s going all the way to the other side of the country to Calabasas with his new daughter and his parents-it’ll be a pretty good idea not to forget anything. As soon as his plane lands in his new home, they’ll all drive together to their new, nice house that they jointly paid for together. 

Yes, James can pay for a house with his parents. He can take care of himself like that. 

He can take care of himself just. Fucking. Fine. 

And he only needs one house. 

Just _one_. 

In just _one_ country. 

He’s rolling up his socks to fit into his luggage when yet another knock sounds on the door. He notes that this new person that must be bringing gifts and well wishes is a bit late compared to everyone else that came; hell, most of the other kids are either just like him and nearly done packing, or they’ve already left for home. And so most of the MIT dormitories are left largely vacated, still, and quiet. 

The knock gently sounds again at the door. 

James glances up at the mirror over the dresser and he practices a smile to see if it looks genuine enough. When he’s satisfied that it is and he has at least a little bit of energy left to keep it up for any length of time, he calls out “Coming!” and goes to open the door-

He stares right into a pair of steel blue eyes that he hoped he’d seen the last of for the rest of his life. They stare back. 

James stands stock still, feet frozen on the carpet and hand frozen on the doorknob. His mind becomes nothing but a roaring white noise and so his eyes blankly stay still on the other man. 

Tony is in much the same state except that neither his mouth nor his eyes can stay still. His mouth opens and closes and, with that movement, James can see in real time Tony’s mind struggling to come up with something to say and failing over and over again. And his eyes…his eyes roam and roam and roam all over James’ face. 

And James can’t tell for the life of him what the fuck Tony could be searching for. 

With a sigh and a glance to the side, James is the one to break the stare-off. 

“…You forget somethin’?” He impresses himself with how sure and steady his voice sounds. 

A few more seconds of silence reign as Tony tries to figure out how to work his mouth again. Even when he does, he still can’t make the words themselves work. “Y-no, Rhodey. I…I didn’t…I mean, I think I got all of my things out by…”

Tony trails off with uncertainty and James raises his eyebrows in silent permission for him to finish. When Tony can’t, James’ eyebrows climb higher and he sighs yet again.

James steps back from the door. “Welp. I think you might’ve forgotten somethin’, actually. I’ve been busy packing and this is the only thing a’yours that I found.” 

Tony stays right where he is and watches in a daze as the other man moves to one of the nightstands and bends down to pick something up. From where he stands, Tony can see that it’s small, fitting easily into James’ hand as he straightens up. Tony can’t tell if his heart is pounding or stopping as James comes back to him with it in hand. 

James holds it up so Tony can see. It’s some kind of shard, some kind of fragment-

This time Tony is sure that his heart actually stops in his chest. 

A piece of the P-51 Mustang model that he gifted James as a wedding present. 

And he smashed it. 

It was so, so long ago that Tony can’t even remember what day or month it happened. 

But he perfectly, vividly remembers smashing it to pieces as though he were doing it all over again right here, right now. He can feel the model, whole and undamaged, in his hand as he snatches it up while he and his then-husband were fighting about…yet another thing he can barely remember. Feels his arm winding back to launch it at the opposite wall, both far enough away from James and still far too close to James. Feels deep within his own skin the vibrations of the model shattering upon contact and then raining down, down, down to the floor in shards and fragments. 

He destroyed it and he arrogantly thought that…that some janitor/housekeeper would come clean it up. He otherwise forced himself to forget all about it and managed to do just that. 

Up until now. 

Tony lifts his hand but, like his mouth, he can only open and close it with uncertainty. His eyes lift from the broken piece of the P-51 Mustang to roam James’ face once more. He doesn’t see the utter devastation and anger on James’ face and he doesn’t see the soul-sucking misery and exhaustion on James’ face. No, there’s nothing there other than resignation and dispassion. 

Because of Tony. 

And goddamn if Tony can say how much that hurts. How much he wants to…to…

The silence drags on. James holds the fragment up higher. 

“Y’want it back?” James asks with feigned casualness. “If you do, then all the rest of it is right there next to the nightstand.” 

Tony swallows down the choked closing up of his throat. “No, Rhodey. I don’t want it. I just…I just came o-over here to…to…” 

James raises an eyebrow. “To…?” 

Tony tries again. “To…I wanted to let you know that…” 

“Let me know what?” 

“That I just…I…you should know that I…I…” 

Yet another silence that drags on. 

James clenches his jaw, tosses the fragment against Tony’s chest where it then falls to his feet, and then turns to finish what he was doing before he was interrupted. 

Tony stares down at the little broken piece of P-51 Mustang next to his shoes, but he can’t make his muscles move to pick it up. His eyes trail back up and he watches James pack his things. James is packing to go to the airport to go to…to Calabasas. All the way on the other side of the country, far, far away from New York City. 

Far, far away from him. 

And hell, Tony should be here to say goodbye anyway. Goodbye, Godspeed, good luck, and never again. 

But James is going away when their twins...their daughters… _their daughters_ …

Tony swallows down a scream. His hands tremble at his sides and he looks on James casually ignoring him while he stuffs a duffel bag full of clothes. 

_James…_

_Just one more…give me just one more chance…_

_I know it’s been nearly four goddamn fucking years, but…but I can learn, Rhodey. I can learn how to take care of you. I promise I can. I can. Just give me one more chance and I promise I’ll learn how to do it…_

_Gotta say something…something…_

_Say something, you sorry piece of shit…say something…_

Tony comes into the room and closes the door behind him. He walks closer to James, hands helpfully outstretched for his luggage. Softly, he insists, “R-Rhodey, here. Lemme do that. Let me help you-”

James neither stops packing nor looks up at him. “Don’t touch my shit. And don’t touch me.” 

The words slam into Tony like a semi at full speed. He has the wind knocked out of him and it’s some kind of wonder that he hasn’t landed flat on his ass. His hands fall back down. Not for the first time since he came here, he’s rendered frozen and useless. He gazes helplessly at his ex-husband. 

Tony desperately tries one more time-just one more time to get James to open up to him. Goddamnit, he knows he’s hurt this man that he loves more than his own life for the better part of three and a half years and so he doesn’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. But…

 _Jim, just open up to me. One last time. Let me in…just a little bit, just an inch, just a_ sliver, _please_. 

His voice is hushed and hoarse. “R-Rhodey. Our girls…our girls are gone. They’re dead.” 

He still doesn’t look up. “Yep.”

A terrible, icy cold seizing takes root in Tony’s muscles at the same time that his stomach drops far, far past his feet. Tony stares, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

It’s all he can do to try yet again. 

“W-we just found out they died not one week ago”, he croaks. 

James is engrossed in idly flipping through one of his textbooks, making sure that none of his treasured notes are left crammed between the pages. “Uh huh. And it was some stank ass news, wasn’t it?” 

“We waited for them for three and a half _years_ , Rhodey”, Tony pleads. “Three. And a half. Years.” 

“Mm-hmm.” James nods at his next textbook. “Such a long, long time. We waited about that long to divorce, too.” 

The beginnings of that cowardly, comfortable rage bring a trembling to Tony’s hands. “Our girls. They…they were the last things keeping us tied together a-after this. We could’ve h-had two girls between us and now…” 

James nods absentmindedly. “And ain’ _that_ a bitch and a bastard all rolled into one? We’re each gettin’ completely different babies than the ones we were bankin’ on. Now ain’t no need for us to even acknowledge each other’s existence, huh?” 

Tony feels himself on the knife-edge point of inching towards that rage or falling into a deep, dark numbness the more James won’t even look at him. Tony chooses neither. 

He is loose and lost; he is helpless and hopeless. 

He tries just one more time. 

He steps closer to James. It’s damn near a physical pain to be unable to reach out and touch the other man. No matter how close Tony gets, James still doesn’t bother to so much as glance at him. 

His voice even more hushed and hoarse, he asks, “…You won’t grieve with me? You won’t even look at me?” 

At that, James jerks to a complete halt and a deathly silence blankets dorm room 12B. The textbook slides carelessly to the floor as James looks at his ex-husband with…with something that could’ve been there before three and a half years ago, but it’s long since died. Permanently. 

And Tony Stark has no one to blame for that but himself. 

“…‘Grieve with you’? Y’want me to ‘grieve with you’, Tones?” James asks, soft and low. “What else do you want me to do with you? Hmm? You want me to talk with you? Discuss with you? Compromise with you? Sit with you? Eat with you?” 

“Jim, I only-”

James voice raises just an octave and he turns to more fully face the other man. “You want me to do _any_ of those things with you? I gave three and a half _fucking_ years of my life to you where I _tried_ to do them with you and all you did was-”

Tears spring, hot and searing, into James’ eyes. He cuts himself off, pulling his lips in and looking away. 

Tony’s entire body pounds with the tension of not knowing whether or not to stay right where the fuck he is or follow the urge to take James in his arms and soothe away as much of James’ hurt as possible…

The goddamned job that he couldn’t do for the entirety of their marriage. 

But James somehow finds his voice again and he looks back at Tony with eyes bright and swimming with tears. “You don’t know how the fuck to grieve with me, Tony”, he chokes. “You don’t know how to do anything but yell, fuck, sleep, and lather, rinse, repeat.”

“Yeah, I’m just as shocked and devastated as you are and I will _never_ be the same again-you can trust and believe in that”, he brokenly continues. “But you don’t deserve my tears just like you don’ deserve my laughter. So, no, Tony. I cannot ‘grieve with you’. I cannot do something with you that you don’t know how to do.”

An all-consuming numbness has taken over Tony’s body and so he hears the sound of his voice as though another person is speaking for him from far, far away. He steps even closer to the other man, hands once again outstretched. “Rhodey…I-”

But James shakes his head and steps far, far out of the way. “Tony, just…for _god’s_ sake.”

The ensuing silence is quite possibly the longest that’s ever fallen between them. It blankets the whole of the space between them, the whole of the dorm room. And somehow it’s neither deadened nor pregnant; neither charged nor cold. 

Just silent. 

And then James’ ex-husband gives him a slow, single nod and backs away. James watches him out of shuttered eyes as he backs all the way out of the room. Tony closes the door behind him and the resounding _c-click_ is the loudest they’ve ever heard in their lives. 

James turns back to his textbooks. 

-

Kneller finds that it’s blissfully smooth sailing to submit all of the paperwork by the deadline, wait for the surefire approval, and then contact the hospital to have them deliver the newborns to his office.

Individually. 

The bored hospital nurse doesn’t bother to grill him with questions concerning why he wanted only one twin at a time-seeing blood-related siblings be separated is all but a staple in the foster care system. So the nurse simply set down the elephants-and-giraffe themed car seat holding the first newborn next to his desk, handed the paper for him to sign, and left. 

Kneller studiously avoided looking too much at the little cherub-in-a-car-seat. Just too many looks would completely undo his resolve and then there goes his social worker license.

He allowed himself only one quick, deliberate glance at the child (she really _was_ a little cherub-in-a-car-seat) and muttered, “…It’s nothing personal, kiddo. Nothing personal at all. Y’know you and your sister can’t possibly miss each other if you never even knew each other to begin with. It’s better this way.” 

“Besides”, he continues. “Your would-be fathers just don’t belong together; that rich one is especially a train wreck, but I’m required by law to give your twin to him. At least you’re going with the good one, though. That much I can do for you…” 

The baby idly gnaws on a corner of her blanket. 

Kneller picks up his phone and calls James first. 

James reaches his office in less than fifteen minutes. 

He’s breathless, eyes round and mouth agape as he throws Kneller’s office door wide open. Kneller adjusts his glasses and gives his favorite kid a great, big beaming smile. _You’re gonna get down to being happy again soon enough…_

The baby gurgles quietly and James’ big brown eyes snap over to the side of Kneller’s desk. His voice is just this side of choked as he asks, “I-is that…that her? My new one? She’s…actually…she’s…?” 

The baby blows a spit bubble and giggles as drool drips down her chin. 

Kneller smiles even wider and nods in the affirmative. “She most definitely is! C’mon in here, James and take a seat so you can hold her properly! You wanna hold her, don’t you?” 

James nods so hard and fast that Kneller thinks it’s a wonder that he doesn’t get a painful crick in his neck. In the next instant James is stumbling over to pick the baby up from her car seat, but Kneller calmly waves at him to just sit down in the other chair. 

“No, no, you just relax and get comfortable, kid; you gotta be both of those so she can be, too”, Kneller soothes him. “I’ll get up and bring her to you, huh?” 

Another hard, fast nod. 

The baby coos curiously as Kneller lifts her up from her car seat, walks the very, very, very short distance around to the other side of his desk, and deposits her in James’ capable arms. Kneller tucks the blanket even tighter around her little body even as James expertly cradles her against his chest. 

“You got her?” He asks gently. The smile won’t leave his face. 

James nods much more slowly than before and Kneller knows- _knows_ -he’s been forgotten as the baby is further settled right up against James’ chest. But Kneller couldn’t mind if he tried-he’s waited for a good, long while to see this moment. He walks back around to the other side of his desk to sit down and watch the show. 

And Kneller ends up watching something…something lift, something break in James. Something _heal_ in James. 

“‘Ey there, brand new baby girl”, James softly croons. “I waited a long, _long_ time to get you-long before you were even born. So good to finally meet you…” 

James’ dark brown eyes are brimming with soon-to-be-shed tears as he gazes down at his brand new daughter. He can’t stop a bright and watery smile from taking over his face as he tenderly traces the teeny cherubic features. He runs a finger down her round button nose, around the dainty arch of her eyebrow, through the feathery softness of her eyelashes, and over the satiny softness of her cheek. It’s barely another second by the time James is naturally rocking her in his arms. The tears have since spilled from his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to lift a single hand from his daughter’s swaddled body to wipe them away. 

All the while, James looks to take deeper and fuller breaths with each caress of his daughter and it seems that the whole rest of the office takes deeper and fuller breaths with him. 

The baby’s eyes droop more and more as her brand new father soothes her like a pro. Even as it warms Kneller’s heart like nothing else, he laments that this is the only twin who he can for sure say is going to a good home with a good parent. 

And James just keeps caressing and rocking and smiling. 

Kneller keeps watching him with a smile of his own. 

It’s a long, long while before he softly breaks in. “James, kiddo? Do you know what you want to name her now? You remember what you can do, right…?” 

James’ eyes snap up to him and Kneller feels not a single trace of annoyance that he’s remained forgotten. 

His favorite kid’s eyes look back down at the baby, up once again to Kneller, and then back down to his daughter. 

James’ voice is faint and breathy. “A-a name…she’s new, but she’s still mine and I…I get to name her…one of the names…” 

Kneller nods patiently. “You sure do, kid! So which one do you want?” 

Those wet brown eyes trail back down to the baby and a whole, brand new smile lights up James’ tear-streaked face. His brown eyes meet the little girl’s brown eyes and that smile only widens. 

“So lil girl, whatchu think ‘bout…” James softly starts. “Being ‘Elena’, hmm? You wanna be my little Elena?” 

Kneller beams and digs around at the top of his mountain of files and folders. “She’ll be Elena…?” 

“…Roberta Rhodes”, James proudly finishes. “Elena Roberta Rhodes.” 

Kneller finally whips out the blank birth certificate with a flourish, grabs a black pen to go with it, and slides both to James’ side of the desk. “Put it in black-and-white, then, James! Oh, and don’t forget to put your own name as her parent up here, on this line, too. Y’wouldn’t believe how many people forget that part.” 

James blinks at the droplets in his eyes and slowly releases just one arm from around Elena’s teeny body to take the pen in hand. Yet more tears fall from his eyes as he writes in her name. 

“Here you are, baby girl”, he whispers to his daughter. “There you go right here on paper…” 

_Elena Roberta Rhodes._

He next writes in his name above hers on the line for the parent. Another line is next to that one, another line for...

For the other parent. 

James goes still and the pen hovers over the blank line. An equally blank look takes over his face. 

Kneller quietly advises, “You can just leave that, kiddo. All that paper needs is yours and her name; it’s only about you and her now. You don’t need to worry about anything or anyone else.” 

James slowly raises his eyes back to Kneller and, though there’s initially a flash of pain, there’s promising hints of that healing coming back to their depths. His eyes drift back down to his snoozing little girl and that smile immediately comes back. He happily slides the birth certificate to Kneller’s side of the desk. 

“Yeah…yeah, sure. I hear you on that.” He rocks his child just a little more softly. 

“Good, kid.” Kneller pauses. “Your parents are still coming in a few days to pick you two up, right?” 

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s…everything’s still set up. Calabasas is still waitin’ on us.” 

“I’m glad to hear it-I really am.” 

“Thanks. Uhh…I’ll jus’ keep her wrapped up in the blanket here and then you’ll return the car seat to the hospital?”

“Oh, no, no.” Kneller stands up to pick up said car seat from the floor and place it in-between all the papers, files, and folders on his desk. “This is all yours, James. Complements of the hospital; they won’t miss it.”

James blinks. “R-really?” 

“Yeah, really. Consider it a gift.” 

“Well, then…I guess this is goodbye, huh?” 

“Yes, it is”, Kneller says. _I’m sorry and I’m gonna miss you somethin’ awful kid. Believe that._ “It’s been a pleasure, James.” 

“Thanks and likewise.” James slowly, carefully stands up so as not to jostle the sleeping Elena in his arms. He’s just as slow, just as careful as he then reluctantly places her in her car seat and straps her in while Kneller holds it steady. 

James then picks up the car seat by its handle and heads for Kneller’s office door. “Well, thank you again and goodbye.” 

Kneller nods. “Goodbye, James. Best of luck to you, kiddo.” 

-

The blissfully smooth sailing continues the next day when Kneller sends in for the last twin. 

He once again had to steel himself against stealing too many looks at the little cherub in the whales-and-dolphins themed car seat. 

The little cherub-in-the-car seat who, even in the early days of her infancy, was perfectly identical to her sister. 

Once again, Kneller allowed himself only one quick, deliberate glance. It was the least he could do; he most _certainly_ owed this one his deepest, sincerest apologies. 

“Just like I told your sister: it’s nothing personal, alright? Nothing personal”, he starts. “Your fathers couldn’t be less compatible if they tried and there’s no way in hell you’re gonna miss your sister if you two never even met.” 

“Now, I did a pretty good thing for your twin-she went home with the only good one”, Kneller continues with a wince. “I’m required by law to give you to this other one and so it’s out of my hands now.” 

The baby gnaws on a corner of her blanket, just like her sister before her. 

Kneller sighs heavily as he picks up the phone. “Well, at least you’re not gonna starve, huh? That much I can say for you…” 

He sighs heavily again and picks up the phone to call the poor baby’s father-to-be. 

The Stark kid reaches his office in less than fifteen minutes. 

And just like James the day before, he’s breathless, eyes round and mouth agape as he throws Kneller’s office door open. And once again, just as the day before, Kneller adjusts his glasses and does his best to give the entitled brat a great, big, beaming smile. _This is the last time I’ll have to see your face and good riddance…_

The baby gives a high coo and Stark’s eyes snap over to the side of Kneller’s desk. His voice is hoarse as he croaks out, “She’s…th-that’s…her? My new one? _Her?_ She’s actually…?”

The baby blows a spit bubble and giggles as it pops and drool splatters on her nose. 

Kneller turns his smile on the baby and he can’t help the bit of apologetics seeping into it. He turns back to Stark. “Yes, this is her right here. Go on and sit down so you two can meet. Uhh...you’d like to hold her, righ-”

“Yes. Yes, I would. Yes, I will.” Stark insists in rapid fire succession. His movements are spastic and jerky as he sits down in the proffered chair. 

Kneller nods and bends down to pick the baby up from her car seat and walks the very, very, very short distance around to the other side of his desk. Though he feels like he’s sending the child to her death sentence, he still deposits her in Stark’s arms.

He then tucks the blanket even tighter around the little body as Stark…somehow…cradles the baby against his chest just as expertly as James did. 

“You…got her?” Kneller asks uncertainly. He struggles to keep the confusion and discomfort off his face. 

Stark nods and, well…Kneller is forgotten once again as the baby is further settled right up against Stark’s chest. And it is once again in that moment where Kneller ends up watching something…something lift, something break in Stark. Something _heal_ in Stark. 

He walks back in a daze to sit in his own chair to watch what’s unfolding before his eyes. 

“Hi. Hi there, new love”, Stark softly croons. His voice carries a warmth and tenderness that Kneller never would’ve thought he was capable of. “Can’t tell you how long I waited to get to you. It was a long, long time, but you’re worth the wait-you’re _more_ than worth the wait…” 

Stark’s blue eyes brim with tears that soon slide down his face as he gazes down at his brand new daughter. And just like James once again, he can’t stop the bright and watery smile from taking over his face as he tenderly traces the teeny cherubic features. Stark’s path follows James’ exactly: a finger down her round button nose, around the dainty arch of her eyebrow, through the feathery softness of her eyelashes, and over the satiny softness of her cheek. And yet barely another second passes in which Stark is naturally rocking her in his arms. His tears are still falling, but he doesn’t care to lift a single hand from his daughter’s swaddled body to wipe them away. 

And all the while, Stark looks to take deeper and fuller breaths with each caress of his daughter and…somehow…it seems that the whole rest of the office takes deeper and fuller breaths with him. 

Kneller watches disbelievingly as the baby’s eyes droop more and more as her brand new father…somehow…soothes her like a pro. A migraine is forming for Kneller as he struggles to understand just how in the hell the only surely-shitty parent in this equation…seems to be just as competent as the only good one. 

And Stark, oblivious to Kneller’s confusion, just keeps rocking and caressing and smiling. 

Kneller keeps watching him with wide, perplexed eyes. _Well, kid…it looks like not only will you not starve, but you may also have a halfway-decent father. Who woulda thought…_

It’s a long while before Kneller remembers to school his face. He clears his throat and asks, “Mr. Stark? Have you thought about a name for her? You remember what you’re allowed, yes…?” 

Stark’s eyes snap up to him and Kneller manages not to feel too annoyed to know that he stayed forgotten. 

Stark’s voice is just as faint and breathy as James’ was. “Her name…she’s new, but she’s still mine and I…I get to give her a name…one of the names…” 

Kneller forces a patient smile. “Yes, you do! Which one were you thinking?” 

The Stark kid’s eyes look back down at the baby, up once again at Kneller, and then back down to his daughter. It occurs probably too late to Kneller that Stark could very well choose to call this one “Elena”, making two Elena’s out of two twins.

If Stark _does_ choose “Elena”, it won’t send Kneller’s plans crashing down around him, but it would most definitely get rid of the smooth sailing tail end of this; he’ll have to think quick on his feet all over again lest it makes his paper trail look more suspect than it already does. While Stark’s eyes are off him, he lets a bit of nervousness creep through in biting his lip. 

He toys with the pros and cons of subtly pushing Stark to choose a diff-

“Ayana”, Stark softly declares, breaking him out of his worrying. 

Kneller blinks, shock making him go completely still. “W-what? I’m sorry…?” 

Those wet blue eyes trail back down to the baby and a whole, brand new smile lights up Stark’s tear-streaked face. His blue eyes meet the little girl’s brown eyes and that smile only widens. 

Stark continues, “I think…you’re Ayana, little one. What d’you think, huh? Wanna be my little Ayana?” 

Kneller doesn’t bother stifling the huge, deep breath of relief that escapes him. “She’ll be Ayana…?” 

“…Maria Stark”, Stark proudly finishes. “Ayana Maria Stark.” 

He whips out the blank birth certificate, grabs the same black pen he used for James, and slides both to Stark’s side of the desk. “Then write it down so it’s official, Mr. Stark. Oh, and please remember to put _your_ name as her parent up here, on this line, too. If you forget that part, you’ll end up making a mess for both of us.” 

The Stark kid blinks at the droplets in his eyes and slowly releases just one arm from around Ayana’s teeny body to take the pen in hand. Yet more tears fall from his eyes as he write in her name. 

“Here you are, love”, he whispers to his daughter. “There you go right here on paper…” 

_Ayana Maria Stark._

He next writes in his name above hers on the line for the parent. Another line is next to that one, another line for…

The other parent. 

Stark goes just as still as James did and the pen hovers over the blank line. An equally blank look takes over his face. 

Kneller’s voice is just as quiet as before as he advises, “You can just leave that blank, Mr. Stark. The only thing the paper requires is yours and her name; it’s just about you and her now. Anything or anyone else isn’t your concern anymore.” 

Stark slowly raises his eyes back to Kneller and there’s just that same initial flash of pain plus promising hints of that healing coming back to their depths. Those eyes drift back down to his snoozing little girl and- _still_ just like James-that smile immediately comes back. He happily slides the birth certificate back over to Kneller’s side of the desk. 

“Thank you; I understand.” He rocks his child just a little more softly. 

“Excellent.” Kneller clears his throat again. “So, then…I trust you have everything you need already set up and ready to go?” 

“Yes”, Stark confirms. “Everything’s just fine and ready for this little one.” 

Kneller nods and says sincerely, “Glad to hear it.” 

“Thank you. Very much.” 

He nods towards the car seat still on the floor next to his desk. “You’re more than welcome to take the car seat home-”

“Is she attached to it?” Stark asks as he slowly, carefully stands up so as not to jostle the sleeping Ayana in his arms. 

Kneller blinks in confusion. “‘Attached to it’…?” 

“Yeah. Does she like it? Love it?” Stark clarifies. “Does it soothe her? Help her sleep?” 

“Well…no, not exactly. I don’t even think she recognizes it or-”

“Then I don’t need it”, Stark says, already turning away. He looks back with a small smile on his face. “But…thank you.” 

Kneller inclines his head. “You’re welcome. Well…goodbye, Mr. Stark. And…best of luck. To you and to her.” 

The Stark kid gives him just one more nod before finally heading for the door. “Thanks. Goodbye to you, too. ” 

When Stark is finally- _finally_ -on the other side of his door, Kneller lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slumps in his chair. 

_It’s over. Over, said, and done. They’ll never have to see each other again…_

-

 _Elena Roberta Rhodes…_

_Ayana Maria Stark…_

-

James smiles down at his daughter as he ends the call with his parents and sets his phone atop one of his suitcases. 

“All good s’far, baby girl”, he soothes. He settles comfortably back against the bed as he rearranges the blankets around her. “Your grandparents an’ Calabasas are less than a few days away!” 

Elena coos and lifts a tiny, star-shaped hand up to him. James smiles anew at her as he catches her star-like little hand and presses kiss after kiss atop it. She coos yet again and grabs his thumb, her grip reassuringly strong and sure. 

He’s been staying in room 12B ever since his last meeting with Kneller. The dorms will remain open and available for students to stay and so there’s more than enough time for James to have quiet time and relax while caring for Elena. He has more than enough money to move to a nice hotel, but he wants to stay in one place for as long as possible for Elena’s comfort. 

And admittedly there hasn’t actually been much relaxation or quiet for James these past few days. Though he prepared for the better part of four years, there’s still so much _work_ in caring for a newborn. It seems that when James isn’t cradling Elena in his arms, he’s preparing a new bottle, throwing away a dirty diaper, running a lukewarm bath, or thanking God and his Holy Son for the invention of towels and bibs. 

He’s never been more exhausted and overworked in all his life and he would change not a single thing about it. 

He would never change a single thing about Elena. 

Elena loves bath time in the sink more than anything-she squeals and splashes the shit out of James until he’s not sure which one of them is supposed to be getting clean. And Elena is a wriggly, squiggly baby, thus making getting a diaper on her a _skill_ that her father had to quickly develop. And during storybook time, she always coos and pats the pages as though she could touch the actual setting, touch the actual characters. 

James eyes the freshly-made bottle that sits on his nightstand next to his still-bagged taco salad and starts to gently tug at Elena’s grip on his thumb. When Elena doesn’t relent and in fact gives a gurgle of protest, James looks back down at her and gives her a playful pout. 

“‘Ey, now. If Imma feed you, then I gotta have both hands”, James pleads. “Your daddy’s good at this taking care of you thing, but he ain’t that good!” 

“Besides, ‘M not goin’ anywhere any more than you are; I’m still right here, hon.” 

But Elena doesn’t let go; if anything, she tightens her grip waves his thumb around. And James could swear-he could _swear_ -that Elena widens and rounds her eyes at him. 

James blinks slowly back at her. “…Are you…are you pulling doe eyes on me? Is that what you’re doin’? You little doe eyes?” 

Elena coos yet again and James takes that as an affirmative. 

“So you’re a lil doe eyes after all, then”, he says. He playfully shakes his head at her. “I can already tell that you’re jus’ gonna pull that on me anytime you want somethin’. Yep…I can tell.” 

She giggles and waves his thumb around again. James can’t help but beam and lift her hand to his lips for another kissing bout, much to Elena’s delight. During that kissing bout, James slowly, gently works his thumb out of Elena’s grip. He braces himself for displeased crying, but Elena is still happily gurgling and giggling. 

With a sigh of relief, he reaches with his freed hand for the bottle on the nightstand. “Okay. Dinnertime, baby girl. Y’can have my thumb back after you ate, burped, and _hopefully_ didn’ upchuck your dinner all over me. ‘Kay?” 

If Elena has any protest, she masks it with yet more doe eyes. She gives a happy little kick against his stomach as he brings the bottle to her lips. James watches in satisfaction as she digs into her dinner. 

When it’s time to place her on his towel-covered shoulder to burp her, she shows him mercy in the form of a deep, hearty burp with no upchucking. He then lays Elena back on the bed to change her into her cars-and-trucks-themed pajamas. Next, he cradles her in his arms again while he double checks that her next bottle for her late-night feeding is ready to go. 

James then lays her back in her portable bassinet with her favorite talk-and-sing phone toy and baby monitor. This allows him to quickly tuck into his taco salad bowl, take a shower, and change into his own pajamas. When he next takes Elena in his arms, it’s to settle her down to sleep. 

“Did the phone taste good, doe eyes?” He asks as he gently puts the drool-drenched toy on a towel so he can clean it later. “I hope it did, so it’ll be a good appetizer for your bottle later on tonight.” 

She wriggles closer to him and gives one of her happy little kicks. James beams, cradles her flush against his stomach, and fishes around in her diaper bag for one of the storybooks. 

He picks out _Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters_ and begins to read, “‘A long time ago, in a certain place in Africa, a small village lay across a river…’” 

Even as James reads (complete with doing the voices), he glances down at Elena to check how close she is to sleep. When he sees that her eyes have closed one final time, he slowly, steadily comes to an end in his reading, shuts the book, and places it on the nightstand. He then settles comfortably against the pillows with her in his arms and, for the thousandth time, examines his sleeping little girl. 

James traces her little features yet again, snuggly tucks the blanket in when it’s already warm and secure around her. His body rocks unconsciously to further soothe her in a deeper sleep. He’s just about to slowly, carefully get up to place her in her bassinet when he…just looks at her. And looks at her. 

James’ eyebrow raises and his mouth quirks. “…Are you awake?” 

Elena bursts into giggles, her button nose scrunching up adorably and her deep brown eyes fluttering open. James throws his head back as he bursts into giggles with her. 

He tickles her little tummy and her giggles become ringing peals of laughing. “Yeah, I done found you out, didn’t I?!” 

Elena wriggles happily in her swaddled blankets and James only laughs harder. He lifts her up to kiss her round little cheeks and nuzzles her little nose. “You’re jus’ a little carefree spirit, aren’t you?!” 

It’s about ten minutes later when James remembers the order of business at hand: getting Elena to sleep for the night so _he_ can sleep for the night. He disrupts Elena’s schedule a bit by going ahead and using her late-night feeding bottle; he gives himself a mental note to replenish the formula inside should she drink most of it. For good measure, he uses one hand to feed her while the other picks up where he left off in _Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters_. Elena has mercy on him again when she truly falls asleep in ten minutes flat. He puts her less-than-half-empty bottle on the nightstand and-

The nightstand. 

That still has those fragments next to it, on the floor. 

And there is still that one, single shard next to the front door where he dropped it. 

James forcibly shoves the thought away and holds Elena even closer. He looks down into her serene, sleeping face with focus and determination. 

_You ain’ gonna know about it-you ain’_ gotta _know about it- but it was hell for the better part of four years, doe eyes._

_But I won’t let you go through even remotely the same shit that I did. It won’t be that way for you. You’ll see-you’ll have so much fun in Calabasas. You’ll be happy and healthy there._

_It’ll be different. I promise you. I promise._

James holds her for just a few moments more before getting up to place her in her bassinet with a tender kiss to her forehead. He then settles back down into the bed to sleep himself. 

He doesn’t bother to clean up the mess next to the nightstand or in front of the door, much less even look at it. 

-

Tony’s head jerks up from where it was smashed into a pillow. His tired, puffy eyes blink blearily at the baby monitor camera on the pillow next to him. 

Ayana is crying. Again. 

It’s the fourth time in as many as thirty minutes; he thought he successfully put her down to sleep in her bassinet not five minutes ago. 

With a groan of deep, deep exhaustion, Tony slinks off his bed and makes for her nursery. When his foot catches and nearly slips on one of Ayana’s many, many stuffed animals, he barely registers alarm, such a common occurrence it is. He drags a hand down his face as he bumps into this wall and that wall on the way. 

“‘M on the way. On the way”, he mumbles. “Don’ burn the house down jus’ yet…” 

As Tony enters his daughter’s nursery, it sounds like the whole of the room is echoing with her cries. Even through his bone-deep exhaustion, he musters a warm, genuine smile for her as he bends over to lift her out of her bassinet. 

“Hey now, love”, he soothes. “‘M here; Papa’s here. Hush; no more of that, now. No more of that…shhh…” 

Ayana mercifully quiets as Tony cradles her against his chest and whispers sweet, soothing nothings in her ear. She wriggles one little, star-like hand out of her swaddles to grasp at his shirt. Tony holds her even closer and presses soft, lingering kisses to her dark, bountiful curls. 

He sighs as he sits down in her pink-and-white-ribbon-laced oak wood rocking chair and begins to rock his daughter. Little gurgles and hiccups are what are left over of Ayana’s cries and Tony rubs her back through them. Her little hand clutches even tighter to his shirt. Tony tilts his head back against the rocking chair, and closes his eyes. 

He’s acutely aware of Ayana in his arms. He can feel her teeny fingers loosening their grip on his shirt until they let go completely. Her warm puffs of air against his neck are slowing and deepening by the second. Any minute now, and a part of his shirt will be covered in drool. 

Tony doesn’t bother opening his eyes and sighs once more. 

She must simply want to sleep with him. Again. 

It’s been a battle. 

At first he, Mom, and Jarvis all fretted that Ayana was colicky. But they all carefully noted an emerging pattern: when she was awake, Ayana was as happy, bouncy, and giggly as a newborn baby could be. But during naptime and bedtime, just after she supposedly fell asleep in her bassinet, she would let loose a horrible, ringing cry. It would be during those times when Tony would be unavailable because his mother and Jarvis fought and finally- _finally_ -won to get him to take a goddamn nap himself. 

Even Tony couldn’t effectively fight back when he was dead on his feet. And so Ayana’s crying bouts during sleepy times would always start when her father was away snoring in an exhausted heap of limbs. Jarvis and his mother combined struggled valiantly to soothe her back to sleep. They tried everything from reading her more stories and feeding her extra-warm bottles to singing to her and walking her all around the mansion. They tried and tried. 

Nothing worked. Ayana stayed awake and stayed crying. She would not even remotely quiet down until…

…Tony came and held her. 

Each and every time Tony came to relieve his mother and Jarvis, he was tired and groggy from being awoken too early from his sleep. And so Tony could only go right back to sleep and let Ayana stay with him.

It was then and only then that Ayana would fall into the deep, blissful slumber that she needs. 

Ayana simply wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ -sleep anywhere other than with her father. 

Tony had a hunch that she preferred to sleep with him in his bed, in the little baby-sized cot that kept him from realizing his nightmares of rolling onto her and/or dropping her. But she always slept just as well with him whether he passed out on the couch or in her rocking chair. 

Just so long Ayana was with Tony, she would sleep. 

And on top of Ayana staunchly refusing to sleep anywhere other than with Tony, there’s all the usual work of caring for a newborn baby. 

Though he prepared for the better part of four years, there’s still so much _work_ in caring for a newborn. It seems that when Tony isn’t cradling Ayana in his arms, he’s preparing a new bottle, throwing away a dirty diaper, running a lukewarm bath, or thanking whatever god there may be for the invention of towels and bibs. 

He’s never been more exhausted and overworked in all his life and he would change not a single thing about it. 

He would never change a single thing about Ayana. 

Tony nuzzles his nose into his daughter’s hair. He rocks them back and forth in the rocking chair. “…Why’re you always wanting t’sleep with me, huh, cupcake? D’you know I bought you a _designer_ bassinet for you to sleep in? ‘M your papa; I’m not a fancy designer bassinet.”

Ayana’s little hand renews its grip on Tony’s shirt and Tony could swear it’s an affirmative that Ayana prefers him over any expensive bassinet anyway. 

He sighs and kisses her hair again. “I bet I know why you’re always sleepin’ with me instead of in your really nice bassinet: you know that you’re a sweet princess. Tha’s what it is.” 

This time, Ayana lifts her little hand from his shirt to bop him repeatedly on the nose. 

Tony nods solemnly. “Yeah, I know; I should’ve known that all along. _You_ knew that all along, and so here I am just playin’ catch-up. Real, real _slow_ catch-up, huh?” 

He catches his daughter’s hand from his nose and blows a raspberry against her little palm. Her ringing peals of laughter fill the nursery and Tony laughs with her. Tony then presses a kiss to the back of her hand and tucks it back down against his chest. 

“Alright, buttercup”, he says. He stands up slowly, careful not to jostle Ayana too much in her blankets. “Time for us to get to sleep for real, hmm?” 

If Ayana has any protest, she hides it by contentedly drooling all over his shirt. Tony yawns as he cradles her closer and makes his way back to his bedroom, careful to avoid tripping over anymore stuffed animals. It’s rote, tired memorization of movements as Tony rearranges the pillows (god _damn_ , he can really scatter them all over the place when he’s exhausted), straightens out the blankets, and double checks that Ayana’s little cot is positioned so that it’ll be right up against his arm when he’s ready to put her on it. The last thing of order is to fish around for her late-night bottle in the mini fridge next to his nightstand.

Tony yawns yet again as he scoots to one side of the bed. He lies down with Ayana’s head nestled right over his heart. Ayana is out like a light atop him and Tony works on following her. 

He goes quickest when he concentrates on her. 

Inhaling deeply encloses him in wave after wave of the shea butter shampoo and conditioner from her hair; fresh Johnson & Johnson baby powder and cocoa butter lotion on her skin; and fresh, clean diaper.

Filling his ears are the sounds of Ayana’s little, quick puffs of breaths against his neck and her little, sweet coos as she dreams. She’s still drooling on his neck. 

His fingers lightly trail through her mass of dark curls and, not for the first time, a thrill goes through him at the thought of her hair texture changing as she ages. He then plays with her teeny, tiny fingers, the pads of his larger ones feeling the little whorls of her knuckles, the silky smoothness of her palm, the bird-like fragility of her bones. 

His hand goes back up to her hair. 

There’s only one thing that bleeds through his concentration, bleeds through his sleepiness. He unconsciously holds Ayana tighter. 

The bed he’s lying on…is a king size. Even with Ayana in his arms and with her cot right next to him, there’s more than enough room for him to sleep right in the center of the bed and even sprawl out. But…to scoot to the center would mean…

He shared this bed once upon a time. He shared this _mansion_ once upon a time with someone else, someone else other than his mother, other than Jarvis. 

Unbidden, Tony’s head turns to the other side of the bed. To the empty side of the bed. To the cold side of the bed. 

He slept in this very room, in this very bed. With James. 

This would be their bedroom here, in Somerville, on most of the weekends. 

But now, it’s…it’s since been cleaned of any and all traces of showing that two young, married, genius, idiot kids in love ever shared it. Hell, they cleaned this bedroom out long before they cleaned out their shared dorm room at MIT. 

So it’s now only Tony’s room. Only Tony’s bed. The only signs that someone shares it with him is found in evidence of Ayana. Ayana’s things are all amongst his. Ayana’s mini fridge with her pre-made bottles is next to his nightstand. Ayana’s stuffed animals and other toys are all over the carpet, his dresser, his bean bag chair. Ayana’s shampoo, conditioner, and hypoallergenic body wash bottles are all nestled next to his in his bathroom. 

But no matter how much comfort and courage Tony takes in seeing his daughter’s things fill up the space that Rhodey once filled, it doesn’t…it doesn’t take away the all of the ache in his chest. 

Neither Mom nor Jarvis ever once bothered to ask him why in the hell he wouldn’t just change bedrooms. 

Shit, it only crossed their minds a few times to just pack up and go all the way back home to New York City. 

Tony forcibly swallows against emotion threatening to choke him and looks away from the other side of the bed. He unconsciously holds his daughter even tighter and presses kiss after kiss to her hair.

Rhodey is not Ayana and Ayana is not Rhodey. 

This is not a second chance with the same person. 

_I failed in my marriage-I failed Rhodey. I failed for four long, goddamned years, but you won’t go through any of that. You won’t feel any of that. I won’t let you.”_

_I will not fail you. I’ll take the best possible care of you; I’ll be the best possible father to you. You’ll be happy and healthy whether it’s here or back in New York. Even if it kills me._

_It’ll be different. I promise you. I promise._

Tony holds her for just a few moments more before sleep starts to overtake him. He slowly, carefully places her in her cot and presses a tender kiss to her forehead. He then settles back down into the bed to sleep himself. 

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes and look at the other side of the bed again. 

-

Another day, another night passes.

Tony still sleeps with Ayana in his arms. 

Or at least tries to. 

He almost thinks that he managed to doze off around 3am. Less than ten minutes later, he woke up again, but it was already time for Ayana’s late-night bottle anyway. He vaguely remembers Jarvis coming in, taking Ayana from his sore arms, and ushering him into the bathroom with a command to soak in a bubble bath for at least thirty minutes, brush his teeth, and for god’s sake, change his clothes. Besides, during the night, Ayana gave him the delightful gift of more drool on his neck and chest along with fresh upchuck. 

They both knew that Tony only relented because he was dead tired. 

When he comes downstairs to the kitchen, fresh and clean, he finds Mom, Jarvis, and Ayana there. The sweet, smooth scent of shea butter in the large kitchen sink tells Tony that Mom and Jarvis already started Ayana on her morning routine. Jarvis serves Mom, Ayana, and him breakfast and for once, it feels like the silence won’t collapse in on all of them. 

It’s raining outside, the clouds dark and roiling and the wind whipping and cooling the air. 

While feeding Ayana her breakfast, Tony gets so dirty that it nearly warrants yet another shower. He chuckles and kisses her little applesauce-and-banana-covered cheeks. She reciprocates in kind by lovingly smooshing her applesauce-and-banana-covered lips all over his nose. 

That blankness creeps back into his mind as the day wears on. As he plays with Ayana in the living room, he struggles to focus on thoughts of finally moving back home, back to New York City once and for all.

Mom was already talking over breakfast about which room would be best for Ayana in their original mansion. 

He should think; he should concentrate. 

Morning drifts into the afternoon. Despite his best efforts, Tony’s mind is still closer to blank than it is to figuring out what to immediately pack for the trip back to New York City. 

And now he’s back in his bedroom, a napping and drooling Ayana on his chest. 

It’s raining. Still.

Jarvis is busy with prepping for dinner and Mom is taking a nap herself. 

Tony stares unseeingly up at his bedroom ceiling. Part of him waits for sleep to overcome him so he can nap with his daughter, and another part knows there’s no way in hell that’ll happen. He lets his ears fill with the sound of his clock ticking and he lets his hands fill with the feeling of his daughter’s heart beating right next to his. 

He glances at his clock and sees it’s just past one. He turns his head to once more stare unseeingly up at his bedroom ceiling. 

_Tick-tock…tick-tock…_

_Beat-beat…beat-beat…_

_Tick-tock…tick-tock…_

_Beat-beat…beat-_

Tony lets his mind stay blank as he sets Ayana safely down in her little cot and then gets up to dress himself. He sheds his pajamas and pulls on a plain t-shirt and jeans. As he stuffs his wallet and car keys in his pockets, he refuses to let his hands shake. Next, he’s quick and efficient as he dresses Ayana in her warmest clothes and then, atop that, her neon-bright yellow-and-orange raincoat. After that is putting a random stuffed bunny and her play car keys in her lap. 

She begins to wake up and gives a curious coo as Tony settles her in her car seat and buckles her in. 

He smiles at her. “Shh, it’s alright, sunflower”, he soothes. He pulls the raincoat’s hood up over her head, and then pops up the car seat’s hood so that it covers all of her. Next is snuggly tucking two soft, downy blankets over her body. “We’re just gonna…stop somewhere. Real quick.” 

Ayana blinks slowly at him and gnaws on one of the bunny’s ears.

He leans in to give her a quick peck on her forehead, and then finishes getting ready. With a deep breath, he pulls on his own raincoat (a plain, dark navy blue) sans pulling his hood up, prepares and double-checks her Versace diaper bag in record time, and then hoists the huge thing over his shoulder. 

Tony luckily meets neither Jarvis nor Mom on his way to the garage. 

Less than twenty minutes and he reaches the MIT dorms. 

The entirety of the building, the entirety of the campus is all but deserted by now. Tony walks the halls and stairs, steadily carrying Ayana in her car seat in one hand and her diaper bag on his opposite shoulder. He forces himself not to grip the handle of her car seat too tight, but the only sounds Ayana makes are contented coos while she gnaws on her bunny. 

As Tony nears 12B, he struggles not to walk too fast lest he jostle Ayana too much. But he can’t help his legs carrying him faster the closer he gets. The faster he walks, the more that blankness in his mind unravels until thoughts are racing through his head. He glances down at the car seat that holds Ayana. 

_I won’t yell. I won’t scream. I won’t curse. Not in front of you…never in front of you._

_I just…I just want to say something-something else. I just want a chance to say I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry._

_And if I have to…‘goodbye’. I’ll say ‘goodbye’ and I won’t…I’ll…I’ll follow his lead. Whatever he wants from here, I’ll follow his lead. I swear…_

When Tony reaches the door, he only just barely remembers to knock. There’s no response from inside, but Tony pushes the door open anyway, calling out, “Rhodey…? It’s me a-and someone else-”

Room 12B is bare. Empty. 

Anyone walking in wouldn’t be able to tell that, once upon a time, it was inhabited by two, young, genius, stupid married kids that drank a little too much, fought a little too much, fucked a little too much, and loved a little too much. 

Just bare. Empty. 

Tony blinks back a familiar searing dampness in his eyes and the only thing keeping him upright is his remembered grip on Ayana’s car seat. On legs made of sticks of wood, he walks deeper into the room and scans it as though James will pop up from the bathroom or out from under the bed or out from the wall and surprise him at any second. He even stops and looks behind him, to the open door leading out to the hallway, but James doesn’t appear there, either. 

Tony trudges to sit on the stripped bed, strips off the diaper bag, and sets Ayana down beside him. His breath leaves him on a soundless sigh and he stares blankly out the window opposite the bed. He absentmindedly pushes off the hood of Ayana’s raincoat so he can run his hand over her curls. 

He moves his foot just a little to the side and feels…something under his shoe. His eyes snap down to the floor as he lifts his foot to see what-

Fragments. 

Fragments of the P-51 Mustang. 

Tony’s heart stops in his chest as he stares down at the mess that was somehow left behind. He glances up from the shards and to the window, looks at the single shard still left at the front door, and then back down again. He next looks at Ayana, who’s fallen back asleep, and smiles at her. 

He should…if he’s going to…then he should move quickly. As quickly as possible. 

In the next second, he walks over to snatch up the one shard from near the front door, and then grabs Ayana’s diaper bag and kneels down in front of the bed. He opens an empty compartment and puts the many, many shards in there. 

Glancing up from his work at his daughter, he says softly, “I hope you don’t mind me putting this in your bag. I’ll take it out as soon as I can, though. I promise…” 

Ayana’s hand twitches in her sleep. 

When Tony is done, he zips the compartment firmly closed and hoists the bag back onto his shoulder. He then stands and tenderly pulls the hood of Ayana’s raincoat back over her head, picks up the handle of her car seat, and walks as fast as he can to his car. Once again, he doesn’t bother to pull his own hood up. 

The airport…the Boston airport is only about twenty minutes from here. The rain is pouring heavier, but if he surely could just…

Ayana wakes up yet again as Tony firmly straps her into the car and then sets her diaper bag down on the seat next to her. He beams at her and blows a quick raspberry against her round little cheek, earning him a happy giggle. 

He gets in the driver’s seat and impatiently shakes out his wet hair. The rain still pours and pours as he drives to the mouth of the mostly-deserted parking lot. Just before he flicks his turn signal, he glances in the rearview mirror at Ayana-

Ayana. 

His eyes can’t leave her. She pays not the slightest bit of attention to him-her own eyes are gazing out the window, out at the downpour. Tony watches those huge, brown eyes take in raindrop after raindrop. So wide, so wondrous, so innocent…

The grip he has on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white. His foot is still pressed on the brake.

Ayana suddenly meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. She gives him a wide, wide smile and a delighted gurgle and waves her little hands around. 

Tony ducks his head down and squeezes his eyes shut against the image of his daughter. 

His father’s voice spreads through his mind like searing acid. 

_Idiot, boy. A right idiot. Bringing a baby out in the rain, out in the cold like this. Your own baby, no less. All just so you can give an apology that you’ll fuck up anyway. Just like you always do._

_Goddamn idiot…just like me, huh?_

Tony’s eyes snap open. His grip on the steering wheel has tightened so that his nails nearly cut into his palms. 

And so soft, so quiet, that he can barely hear himself over the rain, Tony declares, “…I’m not like you. I can’t be like you. I already promised her…I can’t…” 

But Tony’s finger hovers over his turn signal switch. To go right is to head for the Boston airport; to go left is to head back for Somerville. 

Ayana coos behind him. His finger still hovers. 

-

“Oh, who’s just a cute, precious, sweetie lil thing?!” Terrence Rhodes asks his granddaughter as he bounces her in his arms. “ _You_ are! Oh, _yes_ you are!”

James and his mother laugh as his father coos and gushes and gushes some more over Elena. It’s Elena’s bubbles and bubbles of laughter that make them laugh even more. Elena waves her little hands around to lovingly pat each of their faces in turn, her huge brown eyes animated and twinkling like stars. 

“Oh, James”, Mama breathes. She extends her arm over her son so she can offer Elena her finger. Elena grips it with relish. “She’s so beautiful. She’s _perfect_.” 

James nods and smiles with pride. “Yeah, Mama. She is. Ain’t really seen nothin’ else like her.” 

“Nothing else in the _world_ ”, Mama agrees. She leans down to kiss the back of Elena’s hand. 

“Thank you both, by the way”, James says around a lump in his throat. “F-for comin’ all the way from home in Philly to get us-”

“Be quiet”, Mama says.

“Hush your mouth”, Daddy says. 

“Yes, ma’am. Sir”, James complies with no small smile. 

A new light, a new joy shines in his parents’ eyes as they lavish love and affection on Elena. James can’t help an answering new light, new joy shining in his own eyes. 

James sits in-between his parents in the airport as they all wait for their flight to Calabasas to be called within the hour. Elena’s diaper bag and car seat and some of their luggage sit at his feet. All around them, the airport is loud and bustling at this time of day, but none of the Rhodes is brought out of their concentrated celebration of Elena. 

And before they all came to the airport, James made sure to dress Elena properly: she’s wearing her warmest layers underneath her neon-bright pink-and-orange raincoat. On her feet are her little squeaky, solar system-themed rain boots.

It’s raining outside. 

Which means that James…James should stop glancing in front of him, behind him, and all around him. He should stop expecting anything to appear out of the huge, lively crowds streaming to and fro in the airport. He should stop expecting the impossible. 

Besides, it’s far, far too late anyway. The hour is coming upon them by the minute and soon all James will have to do is look up at the arrival & departure monitor, listen to the announcer, and Calabasas is less than six hours away. 

And all the way-far, far, far away-on the other side of the country. 

James blinks away something hot and searing in his eyes and swallows something cold and lumpy down his throat. It’s high-past time to be logical, to be practical and he-

“Jim?” 

Mama’s soft, gentle voice cuts through his thoughts and his eyes snap up to her. Daddy is looking at him, too. Elena is busy drooling on Daddy’s sleeve. 

“Y-yeah, Mama? What is it?” He asks. 

His parents’ eyes search his face and then his mother softly suggests, “…Y’do know that there are flights to Calabasas scheduled on other days on this same week, right?” 

Daddy nods slowly. “And shoot, you could still even take a flight scheduled for next week; Edwards ain’ going anywhere without you; you still have plen’y of time, son.” 

“Oh.” James laughs the thoughts off with a humor he doesn’t feel. “No, that’s alright. ‘Sides, we’re all already here an’ it would be too confusing for Elena-”

“Elena is a baby yet, James”, Mama gently cuts in. “She may recognize emotions every now an’ then. But she don’ recognize or care when plans have shifted around a bit-she’s got quite a few years ahead of her ‘fore that starts to kick in.” 

As if betraying him and agreeing with her grandmother, Elena lets out a jubilant gurgle and kicks her little legs. 

“I know, Mama”, James softly relents. He strokes a hand over Elena’s dark, bountiful curls. “But I just…I want this to start an’ end steady for her. She deserves that.” 

Daddy nods slowly. “And neither your mama nor I would wan’ anything less for her. Nor are we sayin’ that…it’s a _guarantee_ that it’d be…steady…if you waited for another flight. Ain’ nobody sayin’ that, kiddo.” 

“But it’s just…a suggestion. That’s all”, Daddy finishes. 

James nods a little too hard. “I know. I hear you two. Both of you. But I still wanna-”

 _“Attention, please. This is the announcement that Flight 6213 to Calabasas is now ready for boarding. All checked-in passengers are requested to pass through security check and board the aircraft as soon as possible. Thank you._

His parents glance at him, but James’ face shows no sign of wanting to hold another conversation. He simply stands and hoists Elena’s diaper bag over his shoulder. Next, he holds out his hands for Daddy to pass Elena to him. He’d carry Elena in her car seat, but he’d rather hold her, warm and close, in his arms right now. 

Daddy relinquishes Elena to him with a soft, all-too-knowing smile and then bends down to carry the abandoned car seat and some of the luggage. Mama pulls her purse onto her shoulder and takes the remaining lighter bag of luggage in her other hand. 

“Well, then”, Mama says. “I guess we’re all set. Should take less than ten minutes an’ we’ll be sittin’ on the plane.” 

Daddy nods. “Yep. And from there, less than twenty an’ we’ll be up in the air.” 

“Yeah”, James quietly agrees. He absentmindedly holds Elena closer. “Not much longer…” 

The announcer sounds again. 

_“Attention, please. This is the announcement that Flight 6213 to Calabasas is now ready for boarding. All checked-in passengers are requested to pass through security check and board the aircraft as soon as possible. Thank you._

James feels Elena drooling merrily on his chest and he holds her even closer. Elena doesn’t seem to mind the close contact; she indulges herself in the very serious business of playing with a button on his shirt. 

He’s just about to follow his parents to the terminal when his legs betray him by making him turn around. Just once more, just one more time, he turns and looks around. 

Unbidden, his eyes scan the crowds upon crowds of people. Scans the restaurants and shops. Scans the front double doors. Scans the side doors. 

Just one more time, just-

 _“Attention, please. This is the announcement that Flight 6213 to Calabasas…_

-

Tony meets Ayana’s eyes once more in the rearview mirror. 

Ayana. 

The rain is still pouring. 

He flicks his turn signal switch down. 

-

James takes in deep, shuddering breaths that he doesn’t have to prevent that something that can’t spill from his eyes. His eyes still scan the airport. 

The more they scan, the less there is to see…until there is nothing to see. 

His mouth opens and closes, but he has next to no idea what…what…

_“Attention, please. This is the announcement that Flight 6213 to Calabasas…_

Daddy’s hand, warm and steady, falls on his shoulder. He squeezes and rubs gently and, in just as gentle a voice asks, “…Jimmy?” 

A coo sounds and James’ eyes snap down to Elena. She lifts a hand to him, her little, chubby fingers grasping and searching. An automatic answering smile comes to James’ face and he lets her catch his index finger while his thumb rubs circles over the back of her hand. Elena gives him her wide, gummy grin, promptly sticks his fingertip in her mouth and covers it with yet more drool. She kicks her little legs against his arm. 

Elena. 

Slowly shaking his head, James says, “…It doesn’t matter anyway. We have to go.” 

He turns to go with his parents and boards his flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, [here's](http://thunderhunk.tumblr.com/post/161199930777/eliminatethenegativee-thefuzzydave) the wittle video that inspired baby Elena's little pretend-to-be-asleep joke! Teehee! 
> 
> Again, please lemme know what you think & I hope you enjoyed! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My faceclaim for Elena & Ayana is a young![Coco](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/268104984037319992/) [Jones](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm4636131/mediaviewer/rm596029952). Is she not perfection, as all black gals are?

**Eight Years Later…**

The bright mid-morning sun shines down upon the five or so school buses that rumble into northeastern Nebraska’s Camp Elsegrove for girls. 

And Camp Elsegrove’s main courtyard is already chock-full of hustle and bustle at this time of day. It’s a wonder the noise doesn’t make a bird fall out of its tree. The huge, huge crowd is brimming with campers, teenage camp counselors, adult camp managers, and more campers. The camp counselors work to make some kind of order out of the chaos while the camp managers are busy as ever on their clipboards. 

Swarms upon swarms of girls of every height, size, shape, and color coalesce and mingle amongst each other. They continuously form and break groups as old friends are happily embraced with plenty of squealing, new friends are met with yet more squeals, and still everyone in-between is met and greeted by another person. A great many, many girls wear colorful spaghetti-strap tank tops with shorts or light, airy t-shirts with shorts in lieu of the climbing summer heat; others wear clothes emblazoned with their respective school’s mascot. And the girls carry different kinds of luggage in all kinds of designs and colors from duffle bags and rolling backpacks to oversized overnight bags and personally-stylized cases. 

And right in the middle of the sea of color and activity that the girls create is a huge, huge pile of duffle bags. They sit in the ever-growing pile, ready and waiting with their tags detailing which girls they belong to. Since the buses are very nearly at the main courtyard, two of the camp counselors take command of the pile and begin calling out the names of their owners to come and get them. They know from experience that once the buses park, even more duffle bags will pour out from all of them, and so the pile will damn near become a mountainous mess. 

“Chelsea Morgan!” 

“Tai Li!” 

“Juliana Hernandez!” 

“Gabriela Tejedor!”

“Katy Cooper!” 

“Shalonda Furlough!” 

“Yanagi Kaho!” 

“Meghan Lawrence!” 

The school buses come to a stop in front of the main courtyard. Their doors open and out pours dozens upon dozens of yet more girls ready and excited for Camp Elsegrove and the noise all but becomes deafening. 

And out of one of the buses comes a girl. 

Or rather, _jumps_ a girl. 

She’s the very first one out of her particular bus as she completely skips the bus steps and jumps over them, earning her the alarm of the bus driver. Without skipping a beat, the girl then jumps headfirst into the fray, looking all around and above her with awe and excitement. She wears a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and a pair of bright orange capris, the seams of which are embroidered with different-colored flowers straight down the leg. On her feet are light-up sneakers that are lovingly worn and scuffed from all of her climbing, running, leaping, and more climbing. 

Her straight-cornrowed-head sports a white baseball cap that has a dozen or so little multicolored doodles she proudly drew herself. Under her hat and against her forehead, her baby hairs are gelled back. And her cornrows end at the nape of her neck in an adorably messy bun tied with a pink rubber band. On her back is a Buzz Lightyear backpack (complete with wings) and over her shoulder is a Hello Kitty purse (complete with whiskers). 

She tilts her head back to better look up and around her. Her satiny skin is the color of deep, deep sienna with a robust blush underneath and nary a blemish. Stretched into a big, bright smile, her lips are wide and plump and naturally the color of dark pink roses. Thick, dark lashes frame her soft brown eyes as she continues to look up and around. 

She shades her eyes with her hands and each of her ten fingernails is painted in a different nail polish (within her sneakers, her toes are the same). On each of her wrists are about five different beaded bracelets, also all in different colors. The swarming commotion doesn’t bother her at all; in fact, she happily melts even deeper into the crowd. She keeps looking up and around her. Now, if she could just find some of the biggest, tallest, sturdiest-

“Woah, _hey!_ Watch where you’re goin’!” 

“Oh, my jolly rancher! My bad!” Elena says, her eyes snapping down to the girl she bumped into. “Are you okay?” 

“…Yeah. And no problem. And…you?” 

“Oh, great! And yep-never better!” 

The other girl quirks an eyebrow at her. Her skin is about the same shade as Elena’s and, instead of cornrows, her hair is done in thick, heavy French braids that go down her back. Just like Elena, her baby hairs, too, are gelled back. She wears an orange Transformer’s t-shirt, jean shorts with a stylishly-frayed hem, and black tennis shoes. She hoists her dark blue duffle bag higher over her shoulder. 

Elena grins at her. 

“So d’you…always walk around without, y’know…looking where you’re…going?” She asks. “You always just…look up?” 

“Oh, no! I usually watch where ‘M going!” Elena insists. “It’s just that this time, I was lookin’ for something.” 

“…A cloud?” 

Elena bursts out laughing, loud and ringing. “Oh my _god_ , you’re hilarious!” 

This time, a shy, pleased smile comes to the girl’s lips. “…You think so?” 

“Yeah, I do! I really, really do!” Elena fixes her baseball cap. “But no, I wasn’ looking for a cloud. I was looking for some good trees!” 

“Uhh…oh, okay. There’s…a lot of those ‘round this camp. But…why?” 

Elena blinks as though the answer should be obvious. “…So I can climb them later.” 

The other girl blinks, too. She searches Elena’s face for a good, long while before replying, “You must…be new to this camp, huh? Like definitely new.”

“Well, yeah! Never been here before.” Elena confirms. “And I’m so _excited!_ I can’t wait to have all kinds of fun adventures an’ learn new things an’ everything!” 

“Then I guess jus’ be happy that you’re pretty new here so you’ll have more fun than anyone else.” 

Elena tilts her head and adjusts the straps of her Buzz Lightyear backpack. “You don’…have fun here?” 

She shrugs and looks down at the ground, scuffing her shoe against the pavement. “Ehh, it’s alright. Guess there’s nothin’ new for me usually.” 

Elena steps closer. “Aww, how come? Even if you go to the same place every day, you can always find something new, a brand new adventure if you just look hard enough.” 

“I jus’…I guess I don’t really meet new people, make new friends.” The girl looks up through her lashes. “I’m kinda…shy and awkward. Painfully so.” 

Elena’s face brightens at that. “Oh, is that all? Well, you wanna be friends with me?” 

She blinks. “…S-seriously?”

“Yeah!” 

“You mean it?” 

“I _do_ mean it!” 

“Well…sure.” Unbidden, a grin comes to the girl’s face. “I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never quite had a friend like you.” 

“Likewise!” 

And without further ado, Elena leaps forward and clasps the other girl to her in a tight, tight hug. She only hugs her tighter when her hug is returned.

“‘M Elena, by the way! Elena Rhodes! Nice t’meet ya!” 

The other girl chortles against her. “Brianne Scott. An’ that’s with an _‘e’_ at the end, not an _‘a’_.” 

“Gotcha!” They pull away from each other. “So what’s your favorite thing to-”

“Elena! Elena, oh my god, wait up!” 

“Yeah, how’d you get over there so fast?!” 

Elena turns back from Brianne with an apologetic smile on her face. “Oh! Sorry, Yin, Kayla! Didn’t mean to leave you behind!” 

Yin Huang and Kayla Marsden, both carrying their duffle bags, bound towards Brianne and Elena. 

Yin’s silky, sable hair is in a single braid straight down her back. She wears a pink visor that shields her eyes from the sun; a light, lacy white tank top over her torso; dark blue jean shorts on her legs; and checker-patterned sneakers on her feet. She’s adorably chubby; part of her tummy sticks out a little from beneath her tank top. Besides her duffle bag, she carries a sunflower-themed backpack and little clutch purse. On her lips is bright pink, dewy lip gloss. Her dark olive skin is made even darker and glowing from the summer sun. 

Kayla, meanwhile, has her dark-brown corkscrew curls up in a messy ponytail and tendrils of her hair still fall over her freckled face. Her glasses are slightly askew from running. She wears an orange t-shirt with her school’s mascot (an adorably smiling alligator) emblazoned on it; white jean shorts on her legs; and bright orange flip flops on her feet. Along with her duffle bag, she has a huge, huge satchel slung over her back. Covering both her satchel and duffle are many different, decorative pins of her native Puerto Rico’s flag. In contrast to Yin’s dark skin, her pale, freckled skin is slathered in layer after layer of sunscreen. 

Yin pants, “Do you _know_ how to stay in one place for longer than twelve seconds?!” 

“Or five seconds at least?” Kayla asks. “ _At least?!_ ”

Elena winces apologetically. “Sure I do! Uhh…do bedtimes and naptimes count?” 

“No”, Yin and Kayla answer at the same time. 

“But we love you anyway”, Kayla says with no small smile. 

“Yeah, you’re still the coolest, ‘Lena!” Yin agrees. 

“Aww, thanks! I love you two coolest-ever peeps, too!” Elena exclaims. 

Elena throws an arm around Brianne and proudly announces, “By the way! This is Brianne Scott-that’s with an _‘e’_ , not an _‘a’_! I bumped into her just now and so she’s our new pal!” 

Elena turns to Brianne. “And this is Yin and Kayla! They’re my friends and now they’re yours, too!” 

“Oh! Hey there, Brianne!” Yin says. “Nice t’meet ya!” 

“Yeah, how ya doin’?” Kayla adds. 

Brianne waves shyly. “Hi, there. Umm…you two go to the same school as Elena?” 

“Naw”, Kayla says. “Elena’s apparently from…way, way away from here-”

“ _Way_ away”, Yin says. 

“-and she jus’ picked us up right there, on the bus. Started talkin’ to us like we’re lifelong friends. Guess she did ‘bout the same thing to you, too, huh?” 

“Yeah, she did!” Brianne giggles. She glances fondly over at Elena. “Guess ‘M surprised that she hasn’t befriended the whole dang bus, yet!” 

“Well”, Elena says. “Knowing me? I’m surprised, too!” 

All four girls laugh. 

“Elena Rhodes!” One of the camp counselors in charge of the duffle bag pile calls out. 

Elena turns away from the other three girls and raises her hand. “Coming!” She goes to get her duffle bag. 

She returns to her friends, duffle bag in hand. Brianne cheerfully announces, “So after they finish handing out everybody’s duffle bags, all we gotta do is wait for them to start callin’ out the cabin assign-”

“ _Wait. Hold up_ ”, Yin demands. 

The other three girls completely stop as Yin surges forward to lift the camp-issued ID tag on Elena’s duffle bag. Brianne and Kayla peer over Yin’s shoulder and gasp at what they see. 

Yin lifts wide, shocked eyes up to Elena. “You’re from _California?!_ ” 

“Holy Mackerel!” Kayla exclaims. “Yeah, you’re not from ‘round here, but you never told us you’re all the way from Hollywood land!” 

“Oh my god”, Brianne says. “An’ you live in Cala-Calabah…” 

Elena giggles and adjusts the strap of her Hello Kitty purse. For the first time, she looks a bit sheepish. 

“Cala- _bas_ -sas”, she helpfully supplies. “That’s Calabasas, California. And yeah, it’s…it’s a little like Hollywood ‘cause ev’ry now and then you see some celebrities. But I really love Calabasas because it’s just a little ways from Edwards!” 

Yin lets go of Elena’s duffle bag tag and tilts her head curiously. “What’s ‘Edwards’?” 

“Oh! It’s ‘Edwards Air Force Base’. My grandparents-and I live with them, too-they’re retired from their own jobs, but that’s what my Daddy does!” 

Elena slips her free hand under her jersey and rummages around until she pulls something out. It’s a shiny, sterling silver dog tag chain. The other three girls lean in to take in its inscription. 

“Daddy is an Air Force Major!” Elena proudly announces. “And the base where he works at from home is the Edwards one. I love being able to visit the hangar with him-that’s basically where all the new planes are!” 

Kayla’s eyes go round. “Wow! So your daddy’s an Air Force guy? That means he’s also a pilot?! Like, he literally _flies_ the planes?!” 

“Yep! He sure does! And he’s the best pilot _ever!_ ” Elena says with just as much pride. She tucks the dog tag back in and deflates a little as she continues, “But Daddy’s deployed right now, though.”

“So that’s why ‘M here at summer camp”, she says. “All a’that should take up the whole six weeks of camp here.”

“Aww”, Yin says as she wraps an arm around Elena’s shoulders. “Then that means that your daddy should be back home by the time camp ends!” 

“Yeah, Elena!” Brianne agrees. “He’ll be back home with you!” 

“‘Cause he _is_ gonna come back home!” Kayla says. 

“Aw, thanks, you all! You’re the best already! And yeah-he’s definitely comin’ home.” 

“So ‘Lena, were you born in Calabasas?” Brianne asks. 

“Naw, I think I was actually born in way, way over on the east coast. In Massachusetts”, Elena replies. “But ‘sides being born in Massachusetts, I’ve lived my whole life in Calabasas. It’s my home.” 

She points to her jersey. “And otherwise, my family has its main roots in Philly. Go Eagles! We fly over to see a game at least once or twice a year!” 

“Hey, that’s so cool! My family has its roots in our homeland, Puerto Rico”, Kayla says with a big, big smile on her face. “But every now an’ then we root for the Florida Gators!” 

“Yeah, but d’you like anything about baseball?” Yin asks. “I do like baseball.” 

“Or ice skating!” Brianne chimes in. “That’s always fun to watch! So pretty and graceful…” 

“I’ve seen hockey once or twice!” Elena says. “It’s so freakin’ cold and so it’s a great excuse for snuggle buddies!” 

“Ahh…” Yin sighs. “Sharin’ a blanket with friends. That sounds like the life.” 

Brianne sighs, too. “ _Tell_ me about it-”

“Attention, girls! Attention!” Calls a cheerful voice over a megaphone. 

Yin, Kayla, Brianne, Elena, and every other girl in the main courtyard turn towards the speaker. She’s a short, pale woman with a head full of grey hair and eyes that crinkle deeply at the corners when she smiles. She wears a dark-green polo shirt with the Camp Elsegrove symbol (a conifer tree) on its breast pocket. Her shirt is tucked into a pair of khaki shorts with many, many pockets. On her feet are heavy-duty tan boots and in her hand is a clipboard. 

“Good morning and a thousand welcomes, Elsegrove campers! I’m Ms. Karen Quills, simply suffice to call me ‘Ms. Karen’! I’ll be your Camp Director for the duration of our six weeks together and I am _so_ eager to get started!” 

“Now, then!” Ms. Karen continues. “We’ve a busy, tightly-scheduled day ahead of us! One of the first orders of business is continuing to collect our duffle bags and I am pleased to see that our camp counselors have done a wonderful job making the pile smaller and smaller. Thank you, girls! Thank you!” 

“Next are cabin assignments. Please note that these will be your assignments for the duration of camp and we’re all sure that you’ll most certainly make new friends along the way. I’ll have my daughter here, Karen Jr., announce your cabin assignments. If you’ve not been given your duffle just yet, then we ask that you please listen for both your duffle and your cabin assignment.” 

The woman standing beside Ms. Karen, Karen Jr., lifts her own megaphone to her lips. She looks like a younger, carbon copy of her mother with the only difference being that she doesn’t quite smile. 

“Alright”, Karen Jr. says. “Listen up, kids. The less I have to repeat, the quicker you can all get to your cabins, settle in, and get ready for lunch, huh? So, first cabin assignment: ‘Eagle’ is Maureen Baker, Lakeisha Pons, May Ichizo, Alice Tucker…” 

With each cabin assignment Karen Jr. announces, the main courtyard becomes emptier and emptier at the same time that the duffle bag pile becomes smaller and smaller. 

“‘Koala’ is Sophie Montgomery, Phyllis Jones, Aubrey Hills…” 

Brianne, Yin, Kayla, and Elena are still one of the many girls left in the courtyard. Brianne bites her lip and leans in close to whisper to the other three girls. 

“Even if we don’ get a cabin together, ‘M sure we’ll all still be real good friends…” 

Elena beams and grasps Brianne’s shoulder. “I’m sayin’! We’re still gonna have so much fun together an-”

“‘Bumblebee’ is Yin Huang, Brianne Scott, Kayla Marsden, Elena Rhodes…” 

All four girls stop and stare up at Karen Jr., who then reads off the next group like nothing happened. They all look at each other in more silence for just a few seconds before they burst into _whoops!_ and high-five each other. 

“Like, what jolly-ranchin’ kind of luck?!” Elena exclaims. 

“I know, right?! We’ll have all the fun in the world for sure!” Kayla squeals. 

Brianne clasps her hands together. “I’m so excited to hang out with you all!”

Yin jumps up and down. “It’s gonna be a great summer!” 

All four girls high-five each other yet again, and then they’re headed off to their cabin. Brianne leads the way with Elena in the middle, and Kayla and Yin bringing up the rear. The courtyard is nearly empty now, the last of the cabin assignments being announced and more and more girls scattering across the camp. In the wake of the deafening noise of the main courtyard, the ensuing quiet is almost refreshing. 

But just as Elena and her friends are about to have the main courtyard well behind them, a car’s horn sounds. Kayla is the first to stop, turn and see what car is honking their horn and her eyes go wide, wide open.

“ _Woah_ ”, she breathes. “ _Who_ is in _there_?!” 

The other three girls stop and turn, too. And their eyes, too, go wide, wide open. 

The black car is slowly making its way up the distant hill from the other side of the camp, cruising through the ever-thinning throng of girls. Its sleek, powerful body is shiny and genteel, so much so that even from where she stands, Elena can see the camp’s many trees, shrubs, and buildings reflected on it. The car’s soft-top roof is up and the windows are tinted, shielding whoever is inside. 

Next to the clunky, bright-yellow school buses, it looks like something out of a far off, modern fairy tale. 

“…That’s a Rolls Royce Drophead Coupé”, Elena says, her voice hushed with awe.

“Oh, yeah? Sounds nice. Real, real nice. And expensive”, Yin says. “Y’must know your cars real good, Elena.” 

“Welp”, Brianne says. “Whoever’s in there is prolly real, _real_ different. ‘Cause I mean, who’s coming to camp in something like _that_?” 

Yin and Kayla giggle with Brianne, and then they’re back to heading off for their cabin. Elena is the only one that stays right where she is, stays still. She can’t take her ever-curious eyes off the car as it approaches. In the mid-morning summer sun, she squints to take in its front plate. 

Elena can just make out the three large block letters: _STK_. Her curiosity flares yet again. She wonders who or what that is. 

“C’mon, ‘Lena!” Yin calls out behind her. “Let’s go see the cabin so we can hurry up an’ eat lunch!” 

“U-uhh, yeah, I’m coming!” Elena calls out distractedly. 

Elena gives one last, curious look at the Rolls Royce before turning and catching up with her friends. She decides that it’s not a big deal. 

Besides, it’s not like she’d have anything in common with a kid that’d come in a car like that.

-

The Rolls Royce comes to a stop in front of the main courtyard. 

Out of the Rolls Royce’s back passenger seat steps a butler. His hands adjust the lapels of his suit more out of habit than anything else as he looks around the camp with mild interest. He takes in the fresh morning air with a deep, deep breath and then steps aside from the back passenger door. 

First, the top of a lace pink parasol balloons out of the car. Next a pair of little, stockinged legs swing over the seat to land a pair of little, mary jane-covered feet on the ground. The mary janes are a bright, soft pink with a small, elevated heel on them. The buckle of their single strap that goes across the top of the foot is in the shape of a flower. 

The parasol is lifted up as a girl steps out of the car and onto the ground, next to the butler. 

Her light-pink peplum dress is perfectly crisp and tailored. Her curved cornrows end in a snug, stately bun at the nape of her neck and her baby hairs are gelled back against her forehead. On her back is a Dolce & Gabbana rose-print backpack and over her shoulder is its matching purse. 

She tilts her parasol back to better look up and around her. Her satiny skin is the color of deep, deep sienna with a robust blush underneath and nary a blemish. Stretched into a soft, sweet smile, her lips are wide and plump and naturally the color of dark pink roses. Thick, dark lashes frame her soft brown eyes as she continues to look up and around. 

The parasol keeps her eyes shaded as she looks all around. She scratches delicately at her nose with meticulously manicured French tip nails (within her mary janes, her toes are the same). On her right wrist is a sterling silver charm bracelet watch. She idly twirls the handle of her parasol in her hands. 

“Here we are, darling”, Jarvis announces. “Camp Elsegrove for girls. We traveled all the way from New York City to this. Do you find it to your liking?” 

“I think it’s absolutely _charming_ ”, Ayana happily sighs. “I never knew there’d be so much fresh air out here in the Midwest!” 

Their driver has since gotten out of the car. He opens the trunk to take out Ayana’s Versace luggage. All four pieces of her luggage sport the same pink fluffy cloud print and are customized with her initials- _A.M.S_ -embroidered on the handles. He sets them carefully on the main courtyard’s pavement, right next to the handful of remaining duffle bags. 

“Yes, well…” Jarvis impatiently swats away a fly. “When you’ve grown up and lived in the city for most of your life, the Midwest would indeed be quite refreshing.” 

Ayana beams up at him and Jarvis beams back. 

“Now then, dear!” Jarvis clears his throat and pulls out a little notebook from his suit. “Perhaps it would be best to conduct a cursory review your father’s list?” 

“Excellent idea, Jarv!” Ayana demurely folds her parasol and places it, her backpack, and purse atop her luggage. “Ready when you are!” 

Jarvis flips open the notebook and pulls out a stately black pen. “So! Flintstones?” 

“Always take first thing in the morning before or during my breakfast”, Ayana recites. “Check!” 

“SPF 15 sunscreen?” 

“Apply _twice_ a day-once first thing in the morning, and then again in the late afternoon even if I don’t play outside. I _must_ make sure to get my face, neck, arms, shoulders, legs, feet, and back 100% covered. I should ask for help if I can’t reach my back”, Ayana recites. “Check!” 

“Lip balm?” 

“Same as the sunscreen!” 

“Insect repellant?” 

“Same as both the sunscreen and the lip balm.” 

Jarvis’ face seems to light up all of Nebraska. “Value packages of lotion and coconut oil?” 

“Apply as needed for nice, soft skin and nice, soft hair. Check, check!” 

Jarvis stops, raising a perplexed eyebrow at her. 

Ayana giggles and explains, “A check for lotion and a check for coconut oil! No need to be trippin’, so go on, Jarvis…” 

“Ahh. Of course, dear.” Jarvis clears his throat and continues, “Stationary?” 

“Write home as often as I want-in fact, try to write every day. Check!” 

“Back-up stationary?” _Your phone._

“Feel free to use it. Check!” 

“Make-up box?” _Your toolbox._

“Be safe, responsible, and have fun with it. Check!” 

“Value packs of shampoo and conditioner?” 

“When scrubbing, try to do it _in-between_ my cornrows so I don’t loosen them too much”, Ayana recites. “And as always, feel free to ask someone for help if I need to. Check, check!” 

Jarvis beams and continues, “Extra parasols; umbrellas; value pack of hair gel and comb; plenty of spare clothes, including swim suits; beach towel; flashlight; special pillow; your special box you’ll take to the office; and photographs of your father, grandmother, Auntie Pepper, Dum-E, and of course your dearly beloved butler, me!” 

Ayana daintily claps her hands and jumps up and down. “That’s everything, Jarvis!” 

“Oh no, darling! On the contrary…” Jarvis tucks the little notebook back into his pocket. He leans into the car’s open trunk to pull something out. 

“A brand new gift from your grandmother, dear Ayana”, Jarvis announces as he holds the little white, sequin-adorned box up to her. “A do-it-yourself French manicure kit with twenty extra nail pieces! Mayhap you’ll find a good friend here for whom you’ll apply these to!” 

“Oh, _wow!_ ” Ayana reaches out and graciously takes the kit. “Tell Grandmommy ‘thank you’ for me!” 

“ _And_ you have something to thank your Auntie Pepper for as well!” Jarvis reaches into the trunk for yet one more thing. Just as before, he holds it up for Ayana. It’s a little pink-and-gold jar. “Extra, spare hair gel complete with shea butter for when you take your cornrows out.” 

“And this, too, you may very well find another good friend for whom you will share this with!” Jarvis hands Ayana the jar with a huge, huge smile on his face. 

Ayana takes it just as graciously as she took the nail kit. “Oh, thank Auntie Pepper for me, too, Jarvis. ‘M sure I’ll find a good friend or two here. And…thanks again. Thanks for bringing me here, Jarvis.” 

Jarvis looks about to tell Ayana that she has no need to thank him because his job is to help take care of her and he _loves_ his job and he would _do_ his job even if he wasn’t paid and-

“Oh, Jarvis…” Ayana laments. She sets her gifts down atop the rest of her luggage, and then holds her arms out to him.

Jarvis immediately kneels down and gathers her into his arms, warm and close and tight. Ayana hugs him back around his neck. She inhales the scents that always seem to cling to him: lemon, English breakfast tea, and fresh, clean laundered sheets. Jarvis sniffles and Ayana rubs his back. 

Only when Jarvis is sure he’s composed enough does he pull away. His eyes are damp with unfallen tears, but he smiles as he takes Ayana’s smaller hands in his. 

“Now you remember, Ayana. If you want to come home at _any_ time for _any_ reason at all, you’re to contact home immediately”, he says. “I don’t care if it’s 3 o’clock in the morning back home. I’m going to take the jet at the earliest hour possible and come and collect you.” 

“Aww, Jarvis, I’ll-”

“And then, after you get your bearings, you can go on a shopping spree in London and Paris with your grandmother and/or Auntie Pepper, just like you did last summer. You’ll have an absolute blast, love.” 

“O-or your father could come back home earlier from his conferences to be with you for the summer”, Jarvis pleads. He gently squeezes her hands in his. “Indeed, I can phone him right here, right now, and have him return home to be with you as soon as possible.” 

At the thought of Papa coming home early, Ayana feels a deep, deep pang on longing in her heart. She could see and be with Papa again sooner than she thinks instead of in the six weeks that will take up both his conference and her camp. And then go to London and Paris for a shopping spree with Grandmommy and/or Auntie Pepper, _plus_ Papa. All Jarvis has to do is make one, simple phone call. 

Papa would come back, come home. 

Ayana looks at the Rolls Royce and sighs heavily. She looks back at Jarvis with a sad smile on her face. “Thanks, Jarvis-I really mean that. But…I’ll be fine. I can do this. I-it’s good for me to get out like this, spread out my wings and…learn how to do a few things on my own. It won’t be so bad.” 

Jarvis’ chin quivers but his eyes are proud. “Alright, love. But only if you’re quite sure…?” 

Ayana smiles wider and nods. “I am!” She squeezes his hands. “See ya in six weeks, Jarv!” 

Jarvis sighs and stands up. He shakes his head as he looks down at her. “…Missing you already, love.” He extends his hand as though asking for a handshake. 

Ayana grins and takes his hand. She starts to shake it up and down, up and down…

…And in the next instant, they’re doing their super-duper special, just-for-them dance. 

_Hand-over-hand!_

_Clap, clap, clap! Up and down, up and down! Don’t forget the hips!_

_Hip bump once! Turn! Hip bump twice!_

_Chin hands!_

_Switch…and handshake again!_

Butler and child giggle together as they shake hands for just a little longer than they usually do. Jarvis then leans down, places his warm, gentle hands on her shoulders, and gives her just as warm and gentle a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

“Have fun, little one.” 

“Imma do my best, Jarvis. Promise!” 

Jarvis gives her a tearful smile and then heads for the car. He turns back just once more to wave goodbye at her. “Toodles!” 

Ayana waves back. “Toodles!” 

Jarvis climbs into the car, directing the driver to take him back to the private airfield. And Ayana is all on her own, in the main courtyard of Camp Elsegrove. 

But she can do this-she _wants_ to do this. 

With a decisive nod, she turns to her luggage amongst the pile of duffle bags. She digs out a plain little wooden box from one of her cases. Cradling it to her chest, she heads for the main office. 

Thankfully, it’s one of the buildings that surround the main courtyard. There’s already a line of girls that stretches all the way out to the front steps. Ayana chews on her lip and skims the sign next to the double doors. It announces what she’s looking for: here is where all campers, if needed, should drop off their medicines; spare mobility devices for disabilities; personal notes/instructions from parents and guardians; and anything precious that they’d like in safekeeping. 

But still…Ayana knows there’s always the chance that she could be in the wrong place. After all, she is completely new to Camp Elsegrove, unlike a lot of other girls here…

She clutches the wooden box tighter. 

Chewing her lip yet again, she walks up to the line and asks, “E-excuse me…?” 

No one heard her; no one turns to her. 

Ayana clears her throat and forces her voice just a little louder. “Excuse me, please?” 

This time, two of the girls at the back of the line, one with huge, amazing puff balls on either side of her head and one with blonde pigtails, turn from talking to each other to look at her. They give her outfit a cursory, curious look before meeting her eyes and smiling a little. 

Ayana waves at them. She wishes her hands would stop trembling. “H-hello.”

“Hi.” 

“Mornin’.” 

They wait for her to say something else and Ayana waits for her voice to stop trembling in her throat. The longer they wait, the more confused they look. Ayana feels the back of her neck burn when she senses other campers’ curious eyes on her as she continues not to say anything. She hears conversations hush. 

When she’s sure that she’ll sound somewhat intelligible, she asks, “Th-this is the main office, c-correct? Where we can, uhh…drop off our th-things?” 

“Oh, yeah! This is it!” 

“Yep, you’re in the right place. Just step on in line an’, uhh…whatever, y’know?” 

Ayana smiles and primly steps in behind them. “Thank you very much.” 

“Sure.” 

“No problem.” 

The two girls turn back and general conversation picks up again. The line moves at a moderate speed even as more and more girls file in behind Ayana. Once she’s well-inside the front double doors, Ayana can see that there are three camp counselors working at the huge, front desk. Several times a camper will have their turn and the whole front desk will erupt in excited greetings and remembrances of times past. Ayana caresses the sides of the box to calm herself down.

She’s idly taking in a bright red Cornhusker poster on the far wall when a shy tap lands on her shoulder. With her heart jumping in her throat, Ayana turns around to face the other person. 

The girl has dark olive skin and big, hazel-green eyes. A blue headband sits in her mass of curly, jet black hair. She wears a bright yellow Super Mario Bros shirt, dark blue jeans, and scuffed, rainbow-colored flip flops. On one wrist is a Super Mario Bros watch and on another is a neon-green, glitter-slathered snap bracelet. Around her neck she wears a shiny Star of David.

She smiles shyly at Ayana. Ayana shyly smiles back. 

“Uhh…I-I like your dress. And your shoes. And your hair”, the girl says. “A lot.” 

Ayana lights up so much that she nearly forgets to move up in the line. “Why, _thank you_! I like your shirt. It’s very festive and exciting.” 

“Oh, y’think so?” 

“Uh-huh!” 

“Thanks!” 

“My pleasure!” 

The line moves up again. 

The other girl clears her throat. “‘M Yasmin Graetz. Nice t’meet you.” She fondly gestures to the girl directly behind her. “An’ this is Destini Stephens. She’s my best friend.” 

Destini, who was previously occupied with talking to another girl, now turns with a big smile and waves at Ayana. Her skin is even darker and richer than both Ayana’s and Yasmin’s and her hair, too, is in cornrows. Pinning up her cornrows in a stylishly messy bun are many multicolored barrettes ranging from hot pink to blue-and-white plaid. Her spaghetti-strap tank top sports a cheerful pink-and-purple polka dot pattern. Below, her light-blue jean skirt has frills adorned on its hem and her purple strappy sandals display a sun-and-moon pattern. 

“Hi, there!” Destini greets. She fondly shakes her head at Yasmin. “Can’t believe you got _this_ one to say ‘hi’ to you. I mean, she be shyer than a dang turtle.”

The line moves up again. 

Ayana giggles. She finds her grip loosening just a bit on the box. “Oh, I know how that is! ‘M afraid that I’m the same way. And it’s the _utmost_ pleasure to meet both of you. I’m Ayana. Ayana Stark.” 

Yasmin and Destini stop completely at that and just stare at her. Ayana correctly anticipates what’s going to come next. 

“Woah. Wowza. Oh my gosh. Your last name is ‘Stark’?!” Destini stage-whispers.

Ayana giggles yet again. She nods. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

Yasmin’s eyes are wide and round. “As in ‘stark butt naked’?!” 

“Yep!” 

“As in ‘stark raving mad’?!” Destini adds. 

“That’s the one!” 

“An’ you don’t even spell it with an ‘e’ at the end, do you?” Destini guesses. 

“Nope!” Ayana replies. “No ‘e’. Just S-T-A-R-K!”

Yasmin tilts her head curiously. “Uhh…if you don’t mind me asking? What…all is in your family? Like, what kinda name…?” 

“Well, as far as I know, I’m just Black”, Ayana smoothly, gently hedges. “But my gran-one of my relatives is Italian! My papa tells me that that’s ‘the White people with olive oil and garlic bread’.” 

As the line moves up yet again, Ayana tilts her head up to the ceiling in thought. “Emphasis on the garlic bread, since ev’ybody usually only ever remembers the olive oil.” 

“Oh, hey! That’s nothing weird!” Yasmin assures her. She tilts her head back at Destini. “She’s got _Irish_ in her family.” 

“Sure do”, Destini giggles. “Great-great aunt and uncle on my dad’s side. Also got some Native American, Peruvian, an’ a little bit of Scottish in there, too.” 

Ayana beams. “I think a lotta us mixed up like that-that’s what makes America great, huh?” 

“It is!” Yasmin returns. 

“Yep!” Destini agrees. 

The line moves up just once more, and then it’s Ayana’s turn. 

Her shyness returns tenfold as she steps right in front of the camp counselor in the center. She’s just a tad lighter than Ayana. Each of her micro braids is precise and her baby hairs are perfectly gelled back; Ayana can smell the fresh argan oil even from where she stands. Just like many of the other counselors, she wears a white shirt with the Camp Elsegrove symbol on it and tucked into a pair of high-waisted khakis. 

She looks at her with big, warm brown eyes and smiles at her with wide, full lips painted in red lip gloss. Her name tag says “Iesha”. 

Ayana feels a new, different-but no less familiar-flush creep up the back of her neck. 

Iesha beams at her. “Good morning, sweetie!” 

“G-good morning, ma’am.” 

She waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, honey! You’re here to have fun-so call me ‘Iesha’. So what’s your name and whatcha got for us?” 

“Oh, y-yes. I’m Ayana Stark. Here…”

Once again chewing her lip, Ayana hovers protectively over the wooden box while she opens its lid. She pulls one of its two contents out and slides it across the counter to Iesha. It’s a stiff, starchy plain white envelope that sports _To Whom it May Concern…_ in Papa’s scrawling, distracted cursive. Inside the envelope is just as stiff and starchy a sky-blue notecard. 

Iesha holds both the envelope and notecard up. “Ohh, this be nice! All stylish an’ everything!” 

Ayana grins and shrugs. “We _be_ kinda stylish back home.” 

Yasmin leans onto her back and whispers, “…You ‘kinda’ be stylish back home…?” 

Destini adds, “…Yeah, have you seen your dress?” 

Ayana turns and smiles at them. “ _Ev’rybody_ is stylish.” 

Iesha smiles and then reads what Papa wrote on the notecard. Her eyes flicker back and forth between the notecard and the wooden box held in Ayana’s hands. A brand new smile breaks out over her face, a smile full of kindness and sympathy. 

“Aww, Ayana”, Iesha sighs. “You’ll be just fine! Y’know, I can tell ya that time will pass so quick because you’ll be having so much fun! And you won’t even notice it!” 

Ayana’s face lights up. “R-really? Y’think so?” 

“I _know_ so”, Iesha assures her. She puts the notecard back in the envelope and then reaches over the counter for the wooden box. “So you g’on and hand me that and I’ll place it in one of these nice, secure lockers for you.” 

“When camp is over, you just remember to come right back here and it’ll be all yours again.” 

“And _any_ time that y’need to come back and get some more, you feel free to”, Iesha continues. “You hear me?” 

Ayana nods and happily slides the box across the counter to her. “Oh, I hear ya! And thank you, Iesha! _Thank you!_ ” 

“Oh, it’s my job an’ I’m glad to do it, sweetie!” Iesha places the box and envelope under the counter on her hidden workstation for the moment. “Now! Did you get your cabin assignment, yet?” 

Ayana shakes her head.

“Well, we can fix that right now!” Iesha pulls out a clipboard and flips through its many pages for a few moments. “You are…” 

“Ah!” Iesha finally announces. “‘Caterpillar’ with Courtney Breslin, Destini Stephens, Ami Long, Yasmin Graetz, Molly Zinken, and a few other girls, hon.” 

Ayana can’t stop smiling as Yasmin and Destini grab her in a hug from behind. She hugs them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, lemme know what ya'll think! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Happy belated-holidays to you! May you all have stayed warm, safe, & prosperous this season! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this new chapter and, as always, pretty, pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top lemme know what you think! :D :D

“Okay, campers!” Karen Jr. announces through her megaphone. “Lunch time! Congrats and thanks for getting settled into your cabins and then right back out here.” 

“Y’had a long travel time an’ the day’s not over yet and you’ll need to be eating up”, Karen Jr. continues. “So please get in line and- _no!_ No pushing, shoving, hair pulling, and/or kicking!” 

Camp Elsegrove’s cavernous cabin-style cafeteria is thrice as noisy as the main courtyard was earlier in the day. Though the buffet line moves quickly enough, the line still stretches all the way out the door, down the steps, and on the pavement. A good bit of the long tables are already halfway full of campers happily tucking into their lunches and chatting away with their tablemates. The wall that’s opposite from the cafeteria’s front door is nothing but big wide windows. Meanwhile, the two walls that are adjacent to the front door are covered in trophies and award certificates and pictures that belong to Elsegrove campers of the past. 

Each and every one of the girls is dressed in the surprise they found in their cabin: complementary t-shirts and shorts from the camp. The shirts are a plain white with Camp Elsegrove’s conifer tree on the breast pocket and the shorts are varying shades of khaki and dark blues. 

“There’s enough of food as is for everyone.” Karen Jr. glares in turn at groups of girls that are guilty and not guilty. She continues, “And make sure that you grab plenty of fruits from the buffet line-we can’t have you going back to your parents with ulcers and clogged arteries.” 

One girl with a brown ponytail and bright green braces asks, “What’re ulcers…?” 

Karen Jr. looks dryly at the girl. “Usually, it’s one of the many, many marks that show you just turned forty-two, kid.” 

About a dozen or so pairs of eyes stare blankly back at her. 

-

“Oh, do excuse me, girls!” Ms. Karen says. “I’m just going to slip in here because I just _have_ to have some of this delicious honeydew melon.” 

As Ms. Karen scoops up a small bowl-full of melon, she turns to the girl on her right with a smile. “Would you like some, too, dear? Oh! And I absolutely _adore_ your braids!” 

Ayana smiles up at the camp director. “Why thank you, but they’re actually cornrows and my Papa did them for me. And thank you again-honeydew melon is my favorite!” She holds her tray out for Ms. Karen. 

“My pleasure, dear. My pleasure”, Ms. Karen says as she puts generous spoonfuls of the fruit on Ayana’s tray. “And cornmaps it is!” 

This time, Ayana’s smile turns down and comes with a coldly-raised eyebrow. She quickly picks up her tray and heads for the table Destini picked out. 

Ms. Karen, now focused on her bowl-full of honeydew melon, leans to the girl on her other side. “How about you, dear? Some honeydew melon?” 

“Oh, sure! Honeydew melon is my favorite! Yes, thank you-I’d love some!”

Ms. Karen turns to the girl with a wide smile on her face. “My pleasure, honey! My pleasu-” 

She stops and blinks in confusion. “Dear, h-how did you…?” 

Elena stops, too and stares wide-eyed up at the camp director in confusion. “How did I do what…?” 

Ms. Karen looks down at the girl’s tray, but sees not a trace of the honeydew melon she _knows_ she put there earlier. She looks back up at the girl, but sees not a trace of mischievousness or humor; if anything, she only looks even more confused. 

Ms. Karen glances back behind her, but a completely different girl is behind her and is preoccupied with serving herself some blueberries. She turns back to the other girl and slowly asks, “H-how did you…get over here from over there?” 

Elena blinks in confusion. “How did I get over here from…where?” 

But Ms. Karen dissolves into chuckles and waves the confusion away. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me, honey. It’s just old age making me slow on camp’s first day!” 

Elena immediately brightens. “Oh, no worries, ma’am! No problem!” 

Ms. Karen beams at her and offers her a spoonful of honeydew melon. “Would you still like some, dear?” 

“Oh, my jolly rancher, yes, please!” Elena holds her tray up for the spoon. “Honeydew melon is my favorite!” 

“Oh, yes!” Ms. Karen agrees. “I…heard. Also! I do love your braids, deary.” 

Elena grins. “Well, they’re actually cornrows and my Daddy did them for me. But thanks!” 

Ms. Karen nods as she finishes spooning the fruit onto Elena’s plate. “Cornpops it is!” 

Elena frowns complete with very, very, _very_ scrunched-up nose. She quickly picks up her tray and goes to join her friends to pick out a table. 

Ms. Karen, her attention now on some strawberries, continues none the wiser. “Of course, the days get much better to get through as camp-”

She stops and sees a completely new girl occupying the spot where the other one just was. Ms. Karen blinks and looks around her. “ _Now_ where did she go…?” 

-

“Uhh…‘Lena, are you sure we can sit there?” Brianne asks. 

Elena looks back at her friend. “Yeah, I think so! I mean, why can’t we?” 

“Well”, Yin starts. “It’s like…in the middle of the cafeteria.” 

“ _Right smack_ in the middle of the cafeteria, at that”, Kayla adds as she adjusts her glasses with one hand. 

“Well…does ‘the middle’ own that table?” Elena challenges with a grin. “We don’t see ‘the middle’s’ name on it. So if ya’ll are all comfy enough an’ you don’t want another table…?” 

Yin matches Elena’s grin. “If you lead the way, then I’m down!” 

“Me, too!” Brianne adds. 

“Ditto!” Kayla agrees. 

Elena beams and does indeed lead the way to the long table right smack in the middle of the cafeteria. Just a few other girls are already at the table, though they stay to the outer edges. Elena, tray in hand, marches straight to the middle table with her three friends giddily following. Yin and Brianne sit on one side while Elena and Kayla sit on the other. 

“Well, now…” Brianne says as she sets her tray on the table and looks all around at their centered view. “This isn’t really half bad…” 

“Yeah, see?!” Elena says. “I toldja it’d be alright here!” 

Yin dips her fish sticks into her tartar sauce with relish. “ _Mmm_ , I am _so_ hungry-it’s been such a long day already.” 

“I hear you on that!” Kayla agrees as she unwraps her loaded chicken sandwich, squirts extra mayonnaise and extra mustard, and then swirls the two condiments together atop the chicken. “I’m already thinking about dinner, too!” 

Elena squirts ketchup onto her hamburger. “I wonder if they serve spaghetti ‘round here…” 

“Oh, that’s usually on Wednesdays”, Brianne says as she opens her strawberry milk carton. “You can even add cilantro, parmesan cheese, mozzarella cheese, and extra tomatoes if you want!” 

“…I am _so_ drooling over here, even if you can’t see it”, Elena moans. 

All four of them laugh and then fully tuck into their lunches. 

-

“O-oh, and Ayana? Thanks _again_. Really”, Yasmin quietly, tearfully says. She cradles her chocolate milk carton close to her chest. 

“Yeah, you’re like…I dunno the word exactly, but it’s probably better than the word ‘awesome’”, Destini agrees as she picks up her hamburger. 

Ayana waves them away with a smile. She swallows down a dainty bite of French fry. “Oh, nonsense! It’s not a problem, not a problem at all.” 

Yasmin beams and looks down at her feet under the table again; her feet that are clad in a spare pair of Ralph Lauren sneakers. Destini wears the same. 

While Ayana was in the main office to pass the note and wooden box along, Yasmin was there to store her extra asthma medicine canisters and Destini was there to double check that they had both of her parents’ current addresses, since their work often took them out of town. 

And on the way from the main office to their cabin, Ayana saw that the scuffed soles of Yasmin’s rainbow-colored flip flops were…slightly…detached from…the rest of the shoe. Both Yasmin and Destini noticed Ayana’s perplexed gaze and Yasmin self-consciously explained that her family had already spent most of their summer budget on just signing her up for camp and then preparing everything she would need. So by the time the soles of her flip flops were starting to break, there wasn’t any money (or time) to replace them. 

But she only had to hold out for another two weeks and then her parents would have the money to send her a brand new pair of rainbow flip flops. Destini defensively added that these were Yasmin’s favorite pair of flip flops and she really, really, _really_ couldn’t bear to throw them away. 

Ayana didn’t see an issue. As soon as their cabin mates bounded off to lunch and the three of them were alone, she gestured to Yasmin and Destini to sit on her bed with her. She opened one of her suitcases and revealed to them a whole compartment full of spare designer shoes. With a smile, she told both of them to pick whatever pair they’d like. It took a long, long time for Ayana to convince Yasmin and Destini that it was more than alright, that she had plenty more at home ( _“Ayana, where do you_ come _from?!”_ ), and, well…she just had a little bit more money in the bank than the average kid. 

Just a little. 

By the time the other two girls finally relented, they were nearly in danger of being late to lunch. But Yasmin chose a pair of bright-yellow sneakers and Destini chose a pair of baby-blue sneakers. Ayana then asked Yasmin if she’d give her the rainbow flip flops so she could mail them back home to someone she knew could fix them, and then have them back here long, long before camp ended. Yasmin excitedly handed Ayana her flip flops and asked who in the world she knew could do such a thing. Ayana smoothly said it was a kindly butler that could do all kinds of things. 

Ayana smiles at her friends in turn. “Yasmin, I’ll be sure to mail your flip flops off first thing tomorrow morning!” 

“Oh, _thank you_ Ayana!” Yasmin blinks back tears. “And I’ll be sure to write my parents so they know to pay you back an-”

“No, no, no!” Ayana says. “Neither one of you need to bother with that. Like I said, I have plenty more shoes where that came from. And besides, you’ve already paid me back: I never thought I’d make friends so early on in camp!” 

Destini giggles. “Well, you’re so sweet and kind that it’s a wonder you were ever worried ‘bout that.” 

“Yeah, but ‘M so shy that it’s hard for me to say ‘hello’ if someone doesn’t say it first”, Ayana counters. 

“So is Yasmin over here!” Destini says. “But, y’know, she got up the courage to say ‘hi’ to you and tell you that she liked your outfit.” 

“That’s true! An’ so _you_ could say ‘hi’ to someone, too!” Yasmin eagerly agrees. 

Ayana laughs and shrugs. “I guess you two are right. And…” She swirls the tip of yet another French fry in her honey mustard. “This food is simply _delish!_ ”

Destini beams as she adds more ketchup to her hamburger. “I know, right?! I swear, I only come back here every summer for the food! ‘S like one of the best parts of camp.” 

“Mmm-hmm!” Yasmin agrees as she takes a big, big chomp out of her grilled cheese sandwich. “Even if this was a camp where all you did was eat all day, so many of us would still come!” 

All three of them share a laugh. 

Ayana swirls her milk carton around. “So, tell me: is pizza served here, too? Pizza is one of my favorites!” 

Destini’s eyes shine brighter than the early-afternoon sun outside. “Oh, yeah! We actually have ‘Pizza Friday’ every week! It’s one of the most common camp traditions!” 

“Uh-huh!” Yasmin bounces in her seat. “They serve lots and lots of pizza for dinner and, if you want, you get to sign up to be one of the ‘Little Kitchen Helpers’ to help prepare the pizza in the morning!” 

“Really?! That sounds like so much fun!” Ayana exclaims. 

“That’s ‘cause it is! An’ there’s _so many toppings_ you can choose from!” Yasmin continues. “Like, you can choose bell peppers, onions, pepperoni…” 

“Sausage, chicken, different kinds of cheese, salami…” Destini continues. 

“And when the pizzas are ready, you get a free pizza slice for yourself!” 

“That sounds positively _delightful!_ ” Ayana sighs. “But ‘M wondering…if you all make the dough from scratch? Like…how bad is the mess of flour?” 

Yasmin and Destini give her a long, long look. 

“Ayana…” Yasmin starts. 

“You cannot name that which should not be named”, Destini gravely warns. 

Their little corner of the table falls quiet as all three girls stare at each other…and then they break into high, ringing peals of laughter. 

-

Other girls that just left the buffet line come and sit at the middle table Elena picked out. Elena and her friends happily squeeze together just a little tighter to make room. As usual, Elena cheerfully greets as many girls as she can and helps the conversation flow around the long table all the more. 

About eight of them are laughing at a joke a girl named Melanie told when Elena sees something and leans close to talk to her three friends. 

“Hey, d’you see that one girl over there?” She asks. “It looks like she’s sitting at that table all by herself…” 

Yin, Kayla, and Brianne all turn to look. At one of the long tables towards the back of the cafeteria and near the windows, sits a girl on the edge. She does indeed sit by herself. She doesn’t bother to look up from dejectedly swirling her alfredo pasta ‘round and ‘round with one hand while resting her cheek in the other. Her light-brown hair is up in a messy pony tail and her soft blue eyes look none-too-dry. 

Yin scrunches up her nose. “Well…maybe someone will come an’ sit with her soon, ‘Lena.” 

Elena bites her lip and glances up at the shortening buffet line. “Maybe, but…almost everyone else is already sitting down an’ she’s still alone…” 

Kayla sighs and downs some of her apple juice like a shot. “Just go ‘head and bring her over here, Elena. _Dios mio_ , you’ll be havin’ the whole rest of the camp sitting with us at this table if you could.” 

Brianne snickers over her cantaloupe. “That’s true. But, Elena, if you wanna have her over here with us, you can jus’ wave her over here. Like, god knows you can attract attention to yourself that easily…” 

“No…” Elena slowly says. She glances from the girl and back to her friends with a soft smile. “Even if she _would_ wanna sit with us, she might be too shy an’ nervous to walk over here all by herself.”

Elena stands up decisively. “I’ll be right back! Watch my tray for me!” 

The other three girls nod their heads. All three of them crane their necks around to see Elena walk, perfectly at ease and unafraid, to the girl sitting by herself. 

“Uh oh…” Yin quietly warns. “There she goes again, working her magic.” 

Kayla swallows a bite of tater tot. “Ten bucks says she’ll have that girl over here in less than ten minutes flat.” 

Yin snorts. “Nobody’s betting ‘gainst you like that! Heck, ‘Lena could probably have her over here in less than _five_ anyway!” 

“Right?” Brianne quietly agrees. She spears herself a piece of cheesecake. “Ain’t nobody losing _$10 flat_ like that. That’s a whole week a’chores worth of allowance money…” 

“That’s a _paycheck_ ”, Yin further agrees. “That’s what I use to buy _precious gel pens._ ” 

“Welp.” Kayla tosses yet another tater tot in her mouth. “‘S worth a try.” 

They all watch as a smiling Elena comes up to the girl and appears to ask if she can sit down with her. The girl nods and gives Elena a watery smile right back. Elena promptly sits down right next to her and…

Less than three minutes pass by the time the girl gives Elena her biggest, brightest smile yet, picks up her tray, and then is close on Elena’s heels as she follows her to their table. 

Elena waves at all of them and announces, “Hey, everyone! This is Tracy-she’s gonna be sitting an’ enjoying meals with us!” 

Brianne lifts her strawberry milk carton in a toast. “Nice t’meet ya, Tracy! ‘M Brianne-with an _‘e’_ not an _‘a’_.” 

“I’m Kayla! ‘S pleasure!” 

“Yin! Good to see you!” 

Other girls at their little piece of table greet Tracy and introduce themselves in kind. Tracy smiles and nods at all of them in turn. 

Elena pats the space right beside her seat. “Here, Trace! You c’mon and sit right here, right in-between Kayla an’ me. May I call you ‘Trace’?” 

Tracy gives a soft, delighted giggle and takes the seat proffered to her. Kayla obligingly scoots over to make room and all of the other girls easily go back to their own conversations. 

“Sure, you can call me ‘Trace’, Elena. That’s mighteh fine”, Tracy says. She has a heavy, drawling southern accent. “Kinda reminds me of how my family calls me over yonder, y’know?” 

Elena beams. “Then ‘Trace’ is on the menu!” 

“Trace, if you don’t mind me askin’?” Yin starts. “H-how come you were sitting all by yourself in the first place? You don’t know anybody just yet…?” 

Tracy chews on her lip before softly admitting, “…I use to have a…group…to sit with. Both here and durin’ the school year. I used to. I used to sit with Rebecca Harrison’s crew.” 

At the mention of the name, a slight frigidness falls over their part of the table. Just about every single girl except for Elena glances at Tracy. The looks on their faces range from mild sympathy to outright incredulity. But conversation continues yet again as though nothing happened. Elena can only glance around the table, her face completely lost. 

“…Who’s Rebecca Harrison?” She asks. 

Tracy stares at her. “Oh, y’don’t know, hon? Y’brand new to this here camp? You’re pretty lucky…” 

Brianne rolls her eyes. “Rebecca Harrison is the crème de la crème of popular girls ‘round here.” 

Yin adds with a derisive sneer, “Every year of camp, she’s always ‘recycling’ the members of her clique.” 

“From what I’ve always heard an’ see of her, she’s lucky she ain’t never tried to get _me_ in her clique”, Kayla says, soft and low. “Woulda knocked those strawberry blonde pigtails right off the sides of her head.” 

Tracy nods. “There’s...quite a few of us other ones ‘round here that got kicked outta her group. But ‘M thinkin’ they got picked up by other girls that’re truly nice an’ sweet like you, ‘Lena.” 

“Oh, _wow_ ”, Elena says. “Yeah, there are kids like that everywhere, but…” 

She turns to Tracy and gives her a warm, sure squeeze on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Trace. You got a good, steady friend in me right now, or at least a place to sit in the cafeteria if you like. You’re always welcome here, y’hear me?” 

Tracy smiles and sniffles. “Thank you. Elena. Thank you.” 

Brianne beams. “In the meantime, though! Uhh…Trace, you wanna tell us some a’your favorite things to do at camp? Mine are swimming and canoeing!” 

-

The rest of the week at Camp Elsegrove sees fun and happenings spread and flourish as expected. Campers run back and forth all over the camp from activity to activity all day long. Camp managers and counselors in charge of supervising group activities race to keep up with their young charges. 

The sounds of balls being hit, thrown, and passed echo all throughout the camp as games like volleyball and tennis to basketball and soccer are played. Meanwhile, the sounds of water splashing all over the camp are heard as campers take on canoeing, swimming, waterfall-riding, tubing, and more swimming. 

And still more activities outside of the physical flourish all through the camp. Campers eagerly draw on pavements with multi-colored chalk. Other campers crowd into the zoo room to get first-hand look (and pets) with many animals native to Nebraska. Other campers sign up to be Little Helpers in the kitchen, in the main office’s mailroom, in the preparation of some of the larger scheduled activities. Still other campers attend the after-breakfast classes teaching skills ranging from tying a multitude of knots scout-style to starting a campfire and identifying different fishes in the lakes and rivers. 

Yes, everything at Camp Elsegrove spreads and flourishes just as expected. 

-

“Okay, so that was my tennis game!” Destini laughs. She dances and twirls in place and would’ve probably fallen over save for Yasmin’s steadying hand. “Now it’s Ayana’s turn to pick somethin’!” 

Ayana and Yasmin laugh with Destini. They had good, fun tennis matches and won two out of four of them together. The camp manager overseeing them had them drink water and eat snacks before they parted, and then the three girls were on their way to their next activity, which is Ayana’s turn to choose. 

Destini wears a bright pink shirt with the Supergirl emblem on it; Yasmin wears a blue-and-green stripped polo shirt; and Ayana wears a soft yellow shirt with _Papa’s Little Tinkerer_ emblazoned on it. All three girls wear khaki shorts and their designer sneakers below their shirts. 

“Say, how ‘bout…you choose canoeing this time, Ayana?” Yasmin suggests. “We got just enough time to switch into our bathing suits an’ we won’t be late for dinner, either!” 

“Oh, yeah! Ayana, you could pick that!” Destini agrees. “Canoeing is a lotta work, but it’s so much fun!” 

Ayana gives a soft, shy smile. “Oh, thank you two-really. But I’d actually rather play the next volleyball game ‘cause I actually…don’ know how to canoe at all.” 

Destini and Yasmin’s eyes glitter with mischief. Ayana squints suspiciously at them. 

“Oh, that’s okay!” Destini reassures her. That mischief in her eyes only heightens. “There’s a little, sectioned off part of the river that they’re using to teach canoeing to anyone who doesn’ know. And _Iesha_ is one of camp counselors in charge of it today.” 

As heat climbs up Ayana’s neck and to her cheeks, Yasmin giggles like a fairy up to no good. 

“Just _think_ , Ayana!” Yasmin says. “You could sit right there in the canoe with her! You could be right up against her legs, her tummy and just relax while she shows you how to row with the oar.” 

“And Iesha is really _muscular_ , too!” Destini says. 

“And strong and awesome and beautiful-”

“Oh, would you two _stop?!_ ” Ayana begs. She clamps her hands over her blushing cheeks. “I don’t need to be blushing when it’s hot enough as is!” 

“Okay, okay! We’ll stop! But how ‘bout a song instead?” Yasmin asks. She clears her throat. “ _Ayana and Iesha, sittin’ in a tree_ -”

“You are an _absurd_ human being-!” 

Destini continues, “ _K-I-S-S-I-N-G-_ ” 

“She doesn’t even like me back like that!” Ayana insists. 

At that, both Destini and Yasmin stop. 

Destini says, “Well…Ayana, the oldest kids at this camp are eleven-year-olds and all three a’us are freakin’ eight-year-olds. So of course Iesha doesn’t like you back like that-it has nothing to do with you, as a person. We’re just…babies, I guess.” 

“Yeah”, Yasmin says. “Like, being eight-years-old? We’re a long, long way from practicing our ABC’s, but havin’ crushes on people way, way older and bigger than us is kinda part of the package.” 

Destini gently squeezes her shoulder. “So even if she doesn’ like you back, you can still, like, enjoy her company, y’know?” 

“Besides, I think she just likes you in general, yeah? Nothin’ wrong with that!” Yasmin says. 

The heat comes down just a bit, just a tad in Ayana’s cheeks. She looks at her two friends in turn. “Yeah, but…I’m still too nervous. So I’ll join her in an activity sometime later, but not right now. Okay? In the meantime, I just wanna do volleyball.” 

“Well, alright. If you’re sure”, Destini says. 

Yasmin nods. “And we’ll keep your secret in the-”

“Oh, that’s the girl! It’s _you!_ ”, sounds a voice from behind. 

Ayana, Destini, and Yasmin all turn as one. Two other campers come up behind them, with the one that spoke waving excitedly at…Ayana. One camper sports bright red hair in a short, adorable pixie cut and big, star-shaped sunglasses balanced atop her head. The other camper has a long, long dirty-blonde braid down her back and has dark-purple braces. 

“Uhh…hello, there”, Ayana greets. 

“Hi! ‘S good to see you again!” The redhead declares. 

“Yeah, it really, really is!” The blonde agrees. 

Ayana exchanges quick glances with Destini and Yasmin. Her two friends look just as lost and confused as she is-they can’t remember when or if they ever even met the newcomers, either. And they most certainly can’t remember when or if Ayana said and/or did something that apparently makes them happy to see her “again”. 

But the other girls don’t notice their collective confusion. 

The blonde one continues, “Say, will you do it again? ‘Cause that was _amazing_ the first time we saw you!” 

“Yeah! We never knew someone could go so fast like that! It was like…like you grew freakin’ wings or somethin’!” 

Ayana takes a good, long ten seconds of just… _staring_ at the two girls, trying to gauge what in all the world they could be going on about. She struggles to think of what she could have possibly done that was ‘so fast’ to the point where they’d remember it-remember _her_ -and then eagerly seek her out so they could see her do it again. But the more Ayana struggles, the more lost she is. She’s a lucky, healthy eight-year-old, but nowhere near athletically-inclined enough to move ‘so fast’ in…anything. 

And even if she was, she can’t imagine why she’d stand out to these girls or anyone else. She’s still so shy that she always prefers to do things with her new friends or quietly by herself if they’re caught up in another, mandatory group activity. 

She doesn’t need to glance at Destini and Yasmin to feel their increased confusion-she can feel it blazing out bigger and hotter than the summer sun above them. And she knows that they, too, are wracking their brains trying to figure out what the other girls must be referring to. 

But the three of them still come up with nothing. ‘So fast’ still rings not a bell. 

The longer the silence goes on, the more uncomfortable the blonde and redhead look. 

Ayana delicately clears her throat. She runs a cursory hand over her cornrows. “Ladies, I’m…greatly flattered that you’re excited about me doing something…‘so fast’, but ‘M afraid that I don’t understand what you mean.” 

The redhead blinks. “Y-you climbed a tree. Heck, it was the tree just behind the main office. You just… _scaled_ it like it was nothin’.” 

“Yeah.” The blonde nods eagerly and steps closer. “You practically flew up there. It was like you always do that with your eyes closed. Never really seen anything like it.” 

Ayana’s face and mind go blank. 

Destini raises an eyebrow. “When did you…see her do this?” 

“Oh, jus’ a few days ago!” The redhead says. She, too, steps closer. “It was _awesome!_ An’ don’t you remember when you climbed back down that us and a whole buncha other girls high-fived you? It was like we made a freakin’ prayer circle around you.” 

The blonde tilts her head and pouts in dismay. “Donchu…remember? It really was only a few days ago!” 

“Yeah, and we were hoping to see it again-”

“Is this some kind of _joke_?” Yasmin demands. She steps slightly in front of Ayana. “Are you two being jerkwads and picking on her? ‘Cause I don’t tolerate people being mean to-

“No, we are _not_ ”, blonde insists. “We’re bein’ dead-serious! We _saw her climb a tree!_ It was _this girl_ that we saw!” 

Ayana bites her lip. She puts a soothing hand on Yasmin’s shoulder, who looks about ready to snap on the other girls. To the other girls, she gives a soft, apologetic smile. “And again-I am really, truly flattered. But…maybe this is all just a misunderstanding an’ everyone should calm down; there’s no need to fight. You just have me confused with some other-”

“No! It was _you!_ We mean it an’ we’re not trying to fight!” 

“Yeah, we couldn’t forget your face if we tried!” 

Ayana’s smile stays the same. “That’s very kind of you two, but I-”

Destini huffs impatiently and crosses her arms. “Well, I say that you two probably _are_ mixing her up wit’ another girl. Ayana was in the main office with us on the first day of camp-”

“Then that’s the day that she climbed-!” 

“But the only thing she _climbed_ , if at _all_ ”, Yasmin forcefully continues. “Was the main office’s _stairs_.” 

A muscle ticks in the redhead’s jaw. She steps even closer and the heat of her anger is all but suffocating. “…Are you callin’ us liars?” 

Yasmin also steps closer, steps out of reach of Ayana’s hand. “…You giving us a reason to?” 

Blood drains from Ayana’s face and she goes as ashen as a ghost. She struggles to make her mouth work to say…something. Anything. 

The blonde steps right up next to her friend. “Hey, back off! We’re just tryin’ to figure out-”

It’s Destini’s turn to step forward with Yasmin. “No, _you two_ back off! You’re the ones that started this in the first place!” 

“No, _you_ started this ‘cause you won’t even admit that this is the girl that-”

“How many times does she have to say that she’s not?! She doesn’ even know what the fruit you’re talkin’ about!” Yasmin explodes. “So who’s really calling someone a liar right now?!” 

“Look, we know what the heck we saw-”

“We don’ care what you saw! Ayana’s not the one that-”

“ _That is enough!”_ Ayana snaps. 

The other four girls immediately fall silent. Ayana steps in the middle of them and looks sternly at each of them in turn. She puts a gentle hand on the redhead’s shoulder. 

“I really _do_ mean that it’s nice of you to think of me like that”, Ayana starts. “But…I’ll sit underneath trees to read a book. Or I’ll openly admire one if I think its leaves are particularly pretty. But I don’t…climb…trees.” 

“I’ve never done it ‘fore I came to this camp, I haven’t done it since I came to this camp, and ‘M afraid that I still won’t do it even when I go back home at the end of camp”, Ayana continues. “In fact, I’m sure that if I tried, I’d probably just end up falling flat on my face and hurting myself real, real bad.” 

The blonde bites her lip. “…Y-you’re sure, though? We really coulda _sworn_ that it was you we saw…” 

“Yeah!” The redhead covers Ayana’s hand on her shoulder with hers. “We honestly didn’ mean t’cause a fuss! We just…you look exactly like that girl we saw. Exactly like her.” 

Ayana squeezes her shoulder. “Well, it’s quite alright and it’s no fuss or trouble at all. This is all just a misunderstanding that got a little outta hand.” 

“Come to think of it…” Ayana glances back at Destini and Yasmin’s faces. “…Why don’t you two join us for dinner tonight, huh? We’re at the third left table, on the right end towards the windows.” 

Yasmin scuffs her shoe in the grass. “Yeah, guess we could…always use some new company. I mean, ‘s just us three, so you two won’t want for room at the table…literally.” 

“And maybe we…we’ll find that we got a lot in common.” Destini rubs the back of her neck. “Could probably even hang out a bit…outside of…dinner.” 

Ayana beams. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice…” the blonde says. She glances at her friend and then looks in turn at the other three girls. “And we’re…sorry. Again. Real sorry.” 

“Mm-hmm. Really sorry”, the redhead adds. “Dinner would be…kinda nice.” 

“We’re sorry, too”, Yasmin replies. 

“Super-duper sorry”, Destini says. “And, heck, in the meantime? You wanna…well, it was Ayana’s turn to pick what we did, and so we were just ‘bout to go play the next volleyball games.” 

“Oh hey, I love volleyball! It’s my favorite!” 

“Yeah, ‘M really, really good at hitting the ball-we’ll make a great team!” 

If Ayana could smile even more, she’s almost sure that her face would split. 

Soon, all five of them are off to the volleyball nets and eagerly considering having lunch together, too. Ayana, Destini and Yasmin learn that the redhead’s name is Courtney and the blonde’s name is Olivia. They chit chat as though there had never been a fight at all. 

But Ayana finds herself mostly staying quiet, mostly staying towards the back. 

She can’t help but keep sneaking looks behind her to see...to see a girl that climbs trees so fast that she looks like she’s flying up them. 

But there is nothing to see; there is no such thing. 

-

“A’ight!” Brianne laughs. “Elena’s turn! Ready, ‘Lena?” 

Brianne and Kayla laugh, too. 

Elena nods and can’t help but laugh, too. She happily takes the soda cap from Brianne. “Ready as ever! So here we go!” With perfect aim, she tosses the soda cap onto the hopscotch tile pattern’s fourth square.

She starts skipping with not a second of hesitation. “One…two…three…five…six…seven…eight…” 

“Seven…six…five… _three_ …two…one. _Hah!_ Survived another round!” 

Elena picks up the soda bottle cap and hands it over to Kayla. She then goes to stand behind Brianne and Yin as Kayla tosses the bottle cap onto the fifth square and starts her turn. 

“One…two…three…four… _six_ …seven…eight!”

The four of them have been having at it with this particular hopscotch game for a while now. After breakfast, they originally started out with swimming in the camp’s massive lake. Elena especially had a blast tossing herself into the water over and over again using one of the swinging ropes. They swam and swam all over and played about three rounds of Marco Polo. At snack time (when they were still dripping wet), they chose apple juice boxes and animal crackers. 

Next, they pulled on their light, airy t-shirts and raggedy jean shorts over their swimsuits and headed off for something else to do. Kayla put on a simple blue-and-white plaid shirt; Yin wears a purple Schoolhouse Rock shirt; Brianne has on a big, flowy pink tank top that nearly reaches her knees; and Elena wears a bright yellow shirt _Daddy’s Little Tinkerer_ emblazoned on it.

The four of them loudly and happily debated over different activities to do as they passed by them while walking. 

They eventually came to the huge, sprawling playing court that includes two basketball courts; several four-square tiles; several hopscotch tiles; and many, many more things for campers to enjoy. Elena, Yin, Brianne, and Kayla all immediately ran to the hopscotch tiles and got the soda bottle cap from a cheerful camp counselor. Other campers have occasionally come and gone in their game, and they’ve otherwise played happily ever since. 

By now the sun is on its eve of setting and the dinner bell will sound in less than an hour. Elena still plays hopscotch with her friends. It’s Yin’s turn again. 

“Here we go!” Yin tosses the bottle cap onto the number six and starts jumping. “One…two…three...four…five… _seven_ …eight!” 

The other three girls clap and cheer for her. Elena especially jumps up and down with a huge, huge smile on her face. “You’re so great, Yin-”

“Oh my _god_ , there she is! Hey! Hey, you!” Someone calls out. “Will you say something else?!” 

Elena, Kayla, Brianne, and Yin all turn as one. Two other campers come up behind them, with the one that spoke waving excitedly at…Elena. One camper sports huge, awesome puffballs on either side of her head and the other camper is a brunette with multiple, multicolored barrettes. 

“Umm…hey, there”, Elena greets. 

“Hey _yourself_!” The brunette cheerfully returns. 

“And hey, how do you say _that_?” The one with puffballs asks. She and her friend come to a stop in front of the other four girls. “Do you know how?!” 

Elena shares a long, long, _long_ look with Kayla, Yin, and Brianne. Her three friends look just as lost and confused as she is-they can’t remember when or if they ever even met the newcomers, either. And they most certainly can’t recall when or if Elena ever gave any indication that she doesn’t know…how to…say words. 

How to speak. 

But the other girls don’t notice their collective confusion. 

The brunette continues, “So will you say something else again? Like, you don’ gotta say ‘hey yourself’, but can you maybe say something else? Like, maybe say ‘Dutch apple pie’!” 

“No, no, no!” The puffballs one says. “No, say ‘chicken nuggets’ or ‘McDonalds happy meal’!” 

“Or how ‘bout ‘spaghetti and meatballs’?!” 

“Or could you do ‘blueberry pancakes’?!” 

Elena takes a good, long ten seconds of just… _staring_ at the two girls, trying to gauge what in the fresh, flippin’, freakin’ jolly rancher is going on. She wracks her brain to think of when and where she could’ve given any indication that she can’t…speak so much so that these girls want to hear her speak. But the more Elena struggles, the more lost she is. She’s a really lucky, healthy eight-year-old with no speech impediments…ever. 

And even if she did have speech impediments, she can’t imagine why she’d stand out to these girls or anyone else-lots and lots of girls all around the camp have all kinds of different disabilities. She’s still so outgoing and talks so much to so many other people that surely someone other than these two girls would’ve caught such a disability if that was the case. 

She doesn’t need to glance at Kayla, Yin, and Brianne to feel their increased confusion-she can feel it shrouding and clouding around them even more than the darkening sky above them. And she knows that they, too, are wracking their brains trying to figure what the other girls are onto. 

But the four of them still come up with nothing. ‘Say something else’ still rings not a bell. 

The longer the silence goes on, the more uncomfortable the puffballs girl and brunette girl look. 

Elena rubs the back of her neck. She runs a cursory hand over her cornrows. “Uhh…girls, ‘M…happy that you seem to remember me from…a time ago. But…are you implying that I can’t _speak_ or jus’ that I can’t speak _English_? ‘Cause I don’t think…” 

The brunette’s eyes go round. “Wh- _huh_? Oh, no, no, no! We know you speak English real, real, real good!” 

“Yeah!” The other girl eagerly agrees. “We mean that you also speak Italian! We want you to say those words in Italian, pretty please an’ thank you!” 

Elena’s face and mind go blank. Her hand slips under her shirt to fiddle with her father’s dog tag. She finds herself unable to form a response. Instead, her eyes just…drift all over the place. They drift all over the playing court, the nearby cabins, the lake and its adjoining river way, way in the distance, the long, long volleyball net right across from them…

Elena fiddles with her father’s dog tag. 

Brianne clears her throat and leans in real, real close to Elena. She asks in a real, real quiet stage whisper, “…Um, ‘Lena? _Do_ you speak…Italian?” 

The very air around them seems to hold its breath as the five other girls wait for Elena’s response. And Elena, with her hand now gripping her father’s dog tag in a death grip, finally does speak. 

“…No. No, I do not. I absolutely do not.” She swallows and debates sharing something that may cause more befuddled heads than before. She makes the split decision anyway because for all she knows, it could actually help. “I only speak English, Spanish, Russian, and a little French.” 

Brianne gives a low whistle. “That is _awesome_ , Elena. Wow!” 

“Yeah, we had no idea at all!” Yin adds. 

The smile on the girl with the puffballs face falls and falls quick. She steps closer to Elena, her gaze wanting and imploring. “Okay, that’s cool, but…donchu _also_ speak Italian? We swore we heard it!” 

“Yeah, we did!” The brunette agrees. She, too steps closer to Elena. “You spoke so fast an’ clear, too!” 

Kayla huffs an impatient breath. “Okay, well look. Elena just listed _all_ the languages she knows how t’speak. Even if she really _did_ speak Italian, why wouldn’t she just _say_ that to you?” 

“Yeah”, Brianne agrees. “Our ‘Lena here is a nice, straightforward girl an’ she’d tell you if she did.” 

It’s both the brunette and puffball girls’ turn to huff an impatient breath. 

The brunette all but shouts, “But she _does_ speak Italian ‘cause she’s _part_ Italian! Or at least, she’s got some Italian in her family!”

“She does!” The other girl ardently agrees. “She really, really does!” 

This time, the silence seems to blanket the whole of the camp, the whole of the state of Nebraska. 

It goes on and on and on and _on_ as Elena stares and stares and stares and _stares_ at the two girls. Her hand completely stills on her father’s dog tag. 

It’s a longer time still before Elena can finally move her mouth to speak to form words. 

That are not in Italian. 

“…What…is _wrong_ with you two?” Elena asks. “What are you two _talking_ about?” 

The girl with the puffballs stammers out, “W-well, your grandmommy is-”

“I call her ‘grandmamma’ and my grandmamma is _Black_ and my granddaddy is Black, and my Daddy is Black, and my whole family is Black, and _I_ am Black, understand?!” Elena exclaims. “By the good jolly rancher, I’m _Black_! What is going on here?!” 

The brunette winces. “Well, yeah, but we meant-”

“That she don’t got no Italian and she don’t speak it because-like she _just_ said-she’s Black?!” Kayla exclaims. “Yeah, thanks for letting us know, ‘cause for a second there, _we_ most certainly didn’!”

Yin glares at the two girls over Elena’s shoulder. “…Okay, now you’re just joking and playing with her. And I gotta tell you that it ain’t _funny_. So you two-”

Puffballs glares right back at Yin. “Nobody’s joking here! Both of us are as serious as ever and we _know_ what we heard and we _know_ what we saw!” She points at Elena. “And that was _this girl_ right here speakin’ Italian like it’s nothing!” 

Brianne steps up right next to Yin. “Well, fine. Go ‘head and keep sayin’ that! But it’s three against two an’ _none_ a’the three of us have a single inkling of what the heck you’re talking about and we got other things to do anyway!” 

“Yeah!” Kayla adds. She steps almost in front of Elena. “You’re hurting ‘Lena’s feelings and wasting our time with this stupid crap!” 

Brunette’s eyes flash and she takes a close, close step towards Kayla. “Excuse me? Stupid. _Crap?_ ” 

“Yeah, you wanna repeat that?” Puffballs invites. She closely flanks her friend. 

Kayla steps closer, too. “Absolutely: stupid. Crap.” 

“Make her say it a third time, and we’ll be throwin’ magic around before dinner”, Yin threatens. 

Elena’s eyes round. She tries to step around her friends with no success “Woah, _woah_! There’s no need for-”

Brunette’s hands ball into fists and continues as though Elena didn’t speak at all. “Then better yet, let’s throw some magic around righ’ now.” 

Brianne sneers. “Bring it-”

“ _Stop!_ All of you!” Elena jerks away from the encircling of her friends and solidly plants herself in the middle of them and the other two girls. 

Puffballs’ face falls. “But we-”

Kayla’s face falls, too “Elena, we didn’t-”

“I said _stop_ ”, Elena asserts. “ _All_ of you.” 

When there looks to still be more protests, Elena places a hand on Brianne’s shoulder and Puffballs shoulder. “Now, let’s just...not get heated here, huh? Ain’ no need for that. So how about we all…take a breath. Loosen our shoulders. Calm down. C’mon…” 

Elena looks at each girl in turn with a raised eyebrow until they do what she suggested. The shoulders under her hands lose their tension. Frowns drop, deep breaths are taken, and glares lessen and Elena feels less like she’s in a war zone and more in a summer camp.

“Yeah, see?” She puts on a huge, beaming smile for each girl in turn. “That feels a whole lot better, doesn’t it?” 

She’s met with sheepish murmurs of assent and apologies. 

Elena nods. “Yeah, I thought so, too. 

She clears her throat and turns to Puffballs and Brunette. She gives them a soft, apologetic smile. “See…y’know what? ‘M sure you two really did hear what you heard an’ saw what you saw. No one’s arguing that you didn’t and no one wants to throw magic hands before dinner.” 

“And ‘M…sorry that I’m…confused about this”, Elena continues. “But maybe we’re all confused here-maybe you got me mixed up with some other girl, hmm? I mean, if you did, it’s not the end of the world, you see?” 

The other two girls nod slowly with faint glimmers of smiles on their faces. 

Elena looks up to the sunset-streaked sky in thought. She looks back down at them and gives them an even bigger smile. “And actually, that’s kinda flattering that not only would you two think I speak a certain language, but also that you’d want to hear it again. From me. So…thanks. Thanks a bunch.” 

Brunette bites her lip, her eyes imploring Elena. “Well, you’re welcome, but…are you _sure_ it wasn’ you?”

Puffballs nods her head and covers Elena’s hand with her own. “Because we really do mean that we heard it from you and not some other girl! We didn’ come here to hurt anybody or start anythin’-we really do mean it!” 

“But Elena really means what she says, too; she really is telling the truth, too”, Brianne says softly. A soft, apologetic smile is on her face. 

Kayla nods eagerly, her face also apologetic. “Yeah, ‘Lena is one of the nicest, honest people we’ve ever met, y’know? She don’ lie if she don’t gotta.” 

Brunette sighs, soft and low. “Alright, I…I guess we got somethin’ mixed up, huh? _Majorly_ mixed up.” 

“Well, it’s…it’s no big problem after all!” Yin assures them. “Guess we just thought…you were callin’ Elena stupid and we don’ take kindly to that. But we understand better, now!” 

Elena beams. “See? S’all just a misunderstanding! No worries, no harm, and no _fighting_ , right?” 

All five of the other girls beam back at her. The next thing they know, the dinner bell rings, loud and clear across the camp. Whole groups of other girls from all over the camp merge into a wonderfully huge stream of color and noise and fun on the way to the cafeteria. 

Elena puts her hands down and looks first at Yin, Kayla, and Brianne for the go-ahead, and when they give it, she looks back at Puffballs and Brunette. “Welp! Since it’s dinnertime an’ we sit in the middle of the cafeteria anyway…how ‘bout you two join us, huh? There’s always more than enough room!” 

The other two girls’ eyes light up brighter than the sunset. 

“Yeah, sure! We’d love that!” 

“It’d be our pleasure!” 

If Elena could smile even more, she’s almost sure that her face would split. 

They all head off to join the stream on its way to the cafeteria for dinner. Elena, Brianne, Yin, and Kayla learn that Puffballs’ name is Maddie and Brunette’s name is Jenna. They chit chat as though there had never been a fight at all. 

But, for once, Elena finds herself mostly staying quiet, mostly staying towards the back. 

She can’t help but keep sneaking looks behind her to hear…to hear a girl that speaks Italian so well that someone would want to hear it again. 

But there is nothing to hear; there is no such thing. 

-

The next morning, a Friday morning, at Camp Elsegrove dawns bright and blue. The sky is wide and clear as ever with not so much as a stray cloud as far as the eye can see. Fresh, warm sunlight splashes illumination onto just about every building’s roof; streams and dances through the trees’ leaves, leaving shimmering patterns on the ground below; and sets the wide, long lake and river glittering and sparkling on their surface. 

The wind blows just a bit stronger than from days past. Though its strength does not tell a story of a storm to come, it does tell of a day that will be just a bit cooler, just a bit fresher than the day before. It lightly blows through the trees, ruffling the leaves; it lightly blows over the lake, rippling the water. 

The huge camp clock over one of the main offices soon strikes 7:30, at which time all the campers are awoken by the morning trumpet player. Girls all over the camp awaken to start the day fresh and new. 

-

There are actually many paths in Camp Elsegrove. Many, many paths. 

Many paths. 

Campers, young and old, new and returning, often liken these paths to hiking trails. They are little more than downtrodden strips of grass, weathered with a thousand young feet going to and fro atop them. During their time at Elsegrove, the average camper learns them quickly like the back of her hand. 

There are more than ten and twenty paths going from the lake to various parts of the camp. There are even more such paths from the cafeteria and offices branching out. Two or three paths connect the reptile cabin to the tennis court. Another connects the farther-most part of the lake to an actual hiking trail that goes up, up into part of the woods. 

There is one path-just one, single path-that goes from the basketball court to the soccer field. 

Just one. 

And it is on this path, on Friday that Ayana walks from the soccer field to the basketball court and Elena walks from the basketball court to the soccer field. 

-

Elena, Yin, Kayla, and Brianne all half-run and half-skip their merry way down the path from the basketball court to the soccer field. They animatedly recount their basketball game-how they got one up on the other team _just_ in the nick of time to win; how camp counselor Hannah cheered both teams on and high-fived everyone for a job well done; and how, after they replenished with animal crackers and juice boxes, they quickly decided they wanted to play a few rounds of soccer. 

Elena is the one who carries the soccer ball.

In the ever-shifting and changing throng of fellow campers, Elena vaguely notices another group up ahead. It is a group that seems to be heading in their direction. But just as soon as she notices, so just as quickly does her gaze go right back to her own group.

Up, up, up, the path they go to the soccer field. Up, up, up...

Elena still carries the soccer ball. 

-

Ayana, Yasmin, and Destini all daintily jaunt their merry way down the path from the soccer field to the basketball court. They cheerfully recount their soccer game-how everybody had the surprise of their life when both teams ended up being tied; how camp counselor Mary cheered both teams on and high-fived everyone for a spectacular game; and how, after they replenished with graham crackers and milk cartons, they slowly decided they wanted to play a few rounds of basketball. 

Ayana is the one who carries the basketball. 

And in the ever-shifting and changing throng of fellow campers, Ayana vaguely notices another group up ahead. It is a group that seems to be heading in their direction. But just as soon as she notices, so just as quickly does her gaze go right back to her own group. 

Up, up, up the path they go to the basketball court. Up, up, up...

Ayana still carries the basketball. 

-

"Hey, I vote we go swimming again tomorrow morning", Kayla says, right as they're just a few feet from the center of the path. 

"Swimming y'say?" Brianne asks. "Sure! After that, how 'bout ping-pong ball in the indoor rec room?!" 

"Then after that, sidewalk coloring!" Elena and Yin say at the same time. They glance at each other, and giggle together before all four of them giggle as one. 

Elena rolls the soccer ball over her shoulders and catches it again. 

And then still just a few feet from the center of the path, Destini announces, "I think a trip to the reptile room after this will be good! We could catch a quick shower before their next lesson!" 

Yasmin beams. "Oh, I'd like that very much! I hope they show the iguanas this time-I think they have the prettiest colors!" 

"Me, too!" Ayana happily agrees. She bounces the basketball once. "I think I even had a plushie iguana when I was younger, too!" 

Yin looks about ready to do a cartwheel. "Say, Brianne? D'you think- _Elena, watch out!_ " 

Destini stretches her arms high, high, high above her head. "Yeah, Yasmin used to- _Ayana, look out!_ " 

"Wha- _oh!_ " Elena yelps. 

"Huh- _ah!_ " Ayana cries. 

Both girls, looking to the side at their friends instead of right in front of them, end up colliding with something. 

Something warm and soft. 

They both fall down, fall flat on their behinds. At the same time. 

A soccer ball goes rolling; a basketball goes rolling. At the same time. 

Elena and Ayana immediately turn further away from what's in front of them to go after the other girl's ball. 

"Oh, _excuse me!_ I'm so sorry!" Ayana exclaims. "Here, lemme get this for you..." 

"No, no, no! Wasn' watching where I was goin'", Elena insists. "So lemme get _your_ ball for you!" 

It takes a moment for Elena and Ayana to catch the balls, as balls do tend to roll and roll and roll. 

Elena triumphantly snatches up the basketball. " _Hah!_ Got it!" 

Ayana triumphantly snatches up the soccer ball. " _Woo!_ Caught it!" 

But before they can happily turn back to face the other girl with ball in hand, they see their friends staring...just staring at them. 

Elena tilts her head in confusion at Yin, Kayla, and Brianne's faces. Yin's eyes are wide and glazed over and she leans away from Elena like she's never seen her before; Kayla's eyes, too, are wide behind her glasses and she's pale as a ghost; and Brianne's eyes are just as glazed as Yin's and her face is so ashen that she looks sickly. 

Ayana, too, looks in confusion at Destini and Yasmin. Destini's eyes bore into Ayana and her mouth is fully agape and Yasmin squints her eyes at her like she can't believe what she's seeing anymore and her hand clutches at her Star of David. 

"Umm...Elena?" Brianne quietly starts. "I-I think...yeah, I think maybe you might speak Italian after all. You _might_." 

"A-Ayana?" Destini whispers. "Maybe y-you do...climb trees. I mean, I think it's a...possibility. Yeah." 

Frowning, Elena turns around with basketball in hand to see...

..Frowning, Ayana turns around with soccer ball in hand to see...

Soft brown eyes meet soft brown eyes in a face of deep, deep sienna. 

Elena gasps. 

Ayana gasps. 

The same soft brown eyes. The same deep, deep sienna. 

They're both rooted right where they stand at the same time that their hearts pound up into their throats and their stomachs drop down, down to their feet. One moment their eyes are boring straight into the other girls and the next their eyes are roaming over the other girl's features so fast that they almost take nothing in. And then it's only the next moment when their eyes are right back to boring into the other girl's. 

It's...it's the same...

The same. 

Same eyes. Same brows. Same nose. Same mouth. Same cheeks. Same chin. Same jaw. 

Same...

The same. 

_Same. Same. Same. Same. Same..._

The whole rest of the camp-the whole rest of the _world_ -falls away as Elena and Ayana keep staring into a mirror...

...That is not a mirror at all. 

It seems that a whole year has passed before they both remember to...to move their mouths. Because they have to say...something. They _should_ say something because weren't they...weren't they about to...

In the time that they struggle to move their mouths, they happen to glance down at their hands. Their hands that are still holding a basketball and soccer ball respectively. 

Elena glances in-between the basketball in her hand and the girl in front of her. She’s the first to manage to make sound along with her mouth moving. She proffers the ball to the other girl. 

“H-here. Here you go”, she says quietly. 

Ayana nods so, so slowly, as though someone else has put their hand on her head to make it move. She, too, proffers the ball in her hand to the other girl. “Yes, th-thank you. A-and here you are, too…”

But fully exchanging the balls without dropping them again…requires them to look down at their hands. A soccer ball and a basketball are exchanged and, somehow right after that exchange, their hand slips. 

Slip right into each other’s. 

Elena gasps. 

Ayana gasps. 

Ayana stares down at the hand she’s holding-a hand with a different-colored nail polish on each finger. Elena stares down at the hand she’s holding-a hand with meticulously-manicured French tip fingernails.

But a hand that’s otherwise…

They both stare down at a hand held in theirs…a hand that looks exactly the same as theirs. 

The same. 

_Same. Same. Same. Same. Same..._

And they should…they should let go of each other’s hands now. They already gave the other girl her ball back and so…so there’s no reason to hold her hand anymore. There’s no reason and besides, it’s kinda not _polite_. 

But some kind of…of magnetic force keeps their hands together. Palm-to-palm; fingers grasping. It should feel embarrassing, it should feel awkward, it should feel uncomfortable. Instead it feels…

Right. So, so very right. Perfect, even. 

Like their hands should’ve always held each other just like this. 

Just like this. 

Elena and Ayana’s eyes snap back up to each other’s faces at the same time. Their eyes widen in wonder even as their brows crease in confusion. _Who…?_

Elena is the first to disengage her hand. Slowly, gently she lets go of Ayana’s and Ayana’s hand falls limply to her side. 

But Elena only let go to slowly, gently raise her hand towards Ayana’s face. Her brow creases to the point of a frown, but a soft glimpse of a smile is on her lips. She tries to move her mouth again to say…something. Maybe something else. 

She sees Ayana’s eyes widen and her mouth fall open as her hand comes closer to her face. Ayana’s head slowly starts to shake. It’s that split second that stops Elena’s hand in her tracks and gets her mouth moving faster.

 _Don’t…please don’t…_

“W-wait…” Elena pleads. Softly, lowly she pleads. 

But everything is too fast. And for once in her life Elena is too slow. 

Before she can get out anything else, the other girl backs away and drops the basketball in her hand. She turns to tear through the other girls behind her and bolts. She runs, runs, runs, until Elena can’t even see her anymore. 

Elena stays there, stays rooted right in the same spot. Her hand is still raised, like the other girl might change her mind. Might come back. 

But the only thing that comes is hot, choking cotton in her throat and something hot and welling behind her eyes. 

-

Ayana slept. Somehow. 

But as soon as she closed her eyes, all she could see was her mouth. Her nose. Her chin. Her jaw. Her skin. Her eyes. 

Her everything…her everything on a different face. 

On a face that wasn’t hers. 

They were on a face that belonged to a girl…a girl that had softly, gently pleaded with her to wait. And…and Ayana remembers that she couldn’t have waited, couldn’t have stayed even if she wanted to. No, the two shaky sticks that were her legs turned her body around and made her bolt far, far, _far_ away from the other girl. 

And Ayana barely remembers where she ended up all the way on the other side of the camp. Barely remembers when her friends caught up with her. Barely remembers how they managed to get her to come to dinner and forget all about what happened. Barely remembers how they all got back to their cabin later on that night. Barely remembers sneaking into the bathroom to text Papa for the evening and…and tell him that she’s okay, that everything was alright. 

She doesn’t at all remember being able to fall asleep. 

But she perfectly remembers that nose, that chin, that jaw, that skin, those eyes on a face…all on a face that’s not hers. _Not hers…not hers…_

Ayana wakes up the next Saturday morning, bleary-eyed and still. She blinks at the sunlight, warm and vibrant, streaming through her cabin’s blinds. Most of her body is right on top her special body pillow, with one arm slung over it even when she was asleep. 

She sits up a little and looks all around to see that the huge clock says it’s only a little past 8 o’clock and the cabin is mostly empty. Ah, of course. This is the first weekend of camp and weekends at Camp Elsegrove are when everyone enjoys Open Camp Day-anything and everything is open all day for any camper. At no part of the day is anyone on a camp counselor-mandated schedule. Heck, even mealtimes are open-breakfast, for example, is served from 7:30 to 11:30 and within that time, campers can come whenever they please. 

Another cursory look reveals a little folded note on her nightstand with her name on it. Blinking again, she picks it up and reads: 

_Dear Ayana,_

_We went down the river to go kayaking! We already ate breakfast, but just come out when you’re ready and we’ll eat again with you (and at lunchtime, too). Didn’t wanna wake you up._

_Don’t be scared-everything’s gonna be okay. We’ll beat up whoever we gotta for you-just let us know. We love you! See you later today!_

_Love, Destini and Yasmin_

_P.S. We heard it’s Iesha on kayak duty today!! –smooches-_

Ayana smiles softly down at the letter and lifts it up to cradle close to her chest. Any other day, the mention of Iesha would’ve made her jump right out of bed, but…

She puts the letter down on the regular pillow and then lies back down on her body pillow. With a shuddering breath, she hugs her body pillow tight, tight, _tight_ and turns her face into its warm, soft plushness to breathe in its scent. 

There’s a searing behind her eyes that she tries to blink away. She has little success. A glance at the clock says it’s going on 8:10. The sunlight still streams through the blinds. 

She could…she could _technically_ stay in her cabin all day, stay in bed all day if she wanted to. The worst thing that would probably happen would be a camp counselor or manager coming in to see if she’s sick and possibly sending her to the nurse’s office if they deem that she is. 

Ayana breathes the scent of her body pillow in again. She breathes and breathes and breathes it in, taking strength, taking resolve, taking…whatever else she needs, but doesn’t quite yet know. 

The next thing she knows, she’s throwing the covers off of her and getting out of bed. With hands that only tremble a little, she grabs some clothes, toiletries, and her phone from her luggage and heads for the bathroom. 

Once inside, Ayana pulls her cornrows into a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck. Washes her face. Takes extra care to dab at the wet trails under her eyes and on her cheeks. Brushes her teeth (she doesn’t quite think she’s in the mood for breakfast). Faithfully applies her lip balm, sunscreen, and insect repellant. 

Responds to the _“Good morning, buttercup! I love you & have fun again today!”_ text from Papa. Responds to the other similar texts from Grandmommy, Jarvis, and Auntie Pepper. 

She dresses primly in a long, flowy white peasant top with frilly on the hems; dark-blue jean capris with stars going up the legs’ seams; and black mary janes with a star for the buckles. On her wrists she puts on bright blue bangles. 

Next is putting everything back where it’s supposed to be in her luggage. She double-checks that she hid her cellphone in the correct secret compartment in her luggage. 

And then Ayana is standing outside her cabin. 

The early morning sun bathes the whole of the camp in splendid golden warmth. Ayana blinks in the light yet again. 

For the first morning of Open Camp Day, Camp Elsegrove is…surprisingly quiet. Here and there Ayana can make out snatches of other girls laughing and squealing and screaming and chattering. And sometimes a group of girls sprinting across the camp, eager and giddy for their next activity. 

But the first Saturday of Camp Elsegrove is otherwise quiet and still. 

Ayana brushes a hand over her perfectly smooth cornrows and sets about. As she walks through the quiet camp, she looks all around her without…without telling herself what exactly it is she’s looking for. Not even in the quiet of her mind does she tell herself. Her eyes wander over and around as she walks as though they have a mind and a purpose all their own. She stays well away from the lake and the adjoining river for the time being-kayaking isn’t quite on her mind right now. 

It seems that she walks aimlessly, walks forever. It seems that she’s on the verge of just walking one, big, directionless circle around the camp. Still she continues. 

Soon she’s in the middle of walking under a huge, towering oak tree. 

Something tells her to look up. 

The other girl gazes down at her from her perch high, high, _high_ up on a branch, one of her legs casually swinging. She chews on her bubblegum and then blows a huge, huge, _huge_ bubble. When it pops, she expertly sucks it back into her mouth and then grins down at Ayana. 

Ayana can’t help but grin back. She leans against the tree’s massive trunk, all the better to see the other girl.

Elena’s grin widens; Ayana’s grin widens. 

“Hey there”, Elena chirps. 

“Hello again”, Ayana trills. 

And then a silence settles over them and they’re left just staring at each other. Yet again. They look into each other’s eyes- _the same eyes_ -and they feel everything and yet know how to say absolutely nothing. With a dainty clearing of her throat, Ayana is the one to break the silence. 

“You…climb pretty fast”, Ayana remarks. 

A glimmer of hurt clouds the Elena’s eyes. The grin vanishes. “And you run pretty fast.” 

Elena’s tummy clenches with the memory of last evening. She, too, somehow slept last night…but every time she closed her eyes all she could see was the girl with the same-the _same_ -of everything running far, far away from her before she could even get out another word. 

And for the life of her, Elena doesn’t know why it hurt so bad because she doesn’t even _know_ this completely random, stranger girl that looks like her and yet is quite clearly _not_ like her. 

But it hurt and it still hurts and Elena Rhodes has never been one to try to suppress her feelings. Daddy always says that it’s good and healthy to feel what you feel and to try to deal with what you feel in a way that doesn’t hurt you and/or someone else. 

Elena just wishes that this time, Daddy could’ve been right here with her instead of on the other side of a cellphone. No matter how much better she feels when she can sneak into the bathroom to text him, she wishes with all her might that he was here so he could wrap her up in one of his nice close, tight, _warm_ hugs and she’ll know the whole world will be right forever and ever. 

And now Elena is blinking back that thing that’s hot and welling behind her eyes all over again. 

And Ayana can see that sadness in the other girl’s eyes. She too, doesn’t know why because she doesn’t even _know_ this completely random, stranger girl that looks like her and yet is quite clearly _not_ like her. 

But on this morning, in this moment, Ayana knows with every fiber of her being that she does. She wants that hurt to go away until there’s nothing but happiness and contentment. Nothing but happiness and contentment in those eyes that are so different, yet exactly the same as hers. 

“I’m sorry…so sorry”, Ayana says. “For running away.” 

Elena smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes; that hot and welling thing is still behind her them. “Well, I-I guess…we were both…scared. A-and we still…are. An’ I mean…I didn’t come after you anyway.” 

Ayana smiles back. She wishes with all she has that she could wipe away the dampness in the other girl’s eyes. “No, you didn’t…and that’s ‘cause I did a pretty good job of running fast an’ far enough away that you couldn’t.” 

“So if…if you’ll allow it, there’s no harm done”, Ayana says softly. “No harm done; you have nothing to apologize for at all. And I’m not running away from you now.” 

Elena blinks. She finds that hot and welling thing slowly, but steadily receding. “…Y-you’re not?” 

Ayana shakes her head and lets a big, big smile come to her lips. “No, I’m not. I’m right here.” 

“Well, that’s…nice. Real nice.” 

“I think so, too!” Ayana bites her lip and tilts her head even farther back. “But…won’t you please come down from there?” 

“Oh!” Elena smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, y’must be getting real sore, craning your head back like that! Sorry!” 

“Oh, no, no! You’re actually quite the sight”, Ayana says sincerely. She leans even closer against the tree trunk. “It’s jus’ that you’re so high up and I worry that you’ll fall and hurt yourself. So if you please just for my peace of mind…?” 

This time, Elena smiles brightly. “Well, alright-I think I can do that for you. Step back for a minute, huh?” 

Ayana nods with a smile of her own and complies. 

Elena swiftly, nimbly climbs down the oak tree. Though it’s only her second time climbing this particular tree, there’s not a shred of hesitancy in her movements as she grabs this branch and steps on that branch to get back down. And when she’s more than halfway back to the ground, she jumps the rest of the way. Ayana watches the entire process with barely-concealed awe. 

“There! Better?” Elena asks with a big grin. 

Speechless, Ayana can only nod. 

Now that she can better see the other girl, Ayana realizes that she wears a lace-trim sky blue tank top; short cut-off jeans that are stylishly frayed at the hems; and dark blue sneakers, adorably scuffed and worn. 

And they still look exactly the same. 

It takes her a moment to find her voice and, when she does, it’s filled with wonder. “Oh, yes. Y-you are…that was _amazing_.You really _can_ climb up trees like a fairy. I’ve never seen anything like that…” 

“Oh, that?” Elena snorts. “Naw, I just climb trees _all_ the time back home-it’s on a’my favorite things to do!” 

But Elena… _“climb up trees like a fairy”_ …Elena can only imagine where the other girl heard such a phrase. Her hand goes to her father’s dog tag under her shirt and her eyes spark with recognition. 

Her voice is much quieter as she continues, “And I bet…you must speak Italian real, real good, huh?” 

Ayana’s eyes spark with recognition in turn. “Well, yeah. I…suppose that’s part of where it all started, yes?” 

“Yeah.” Elena nods and keeps fiddling with her father’s dog tags. “But I guess…I mean, it’s no harm done. Jus’ a misunderstanding here an’ there.” 

“Yes”, Ayana agrees. “Misunderstandings easily cleared up! And speaking of misunderstandings…” 

Ayana takes a deep, deep breath. “Because I ran away so quickly, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. So!” She primly extends her hand. “‘M Ayana Stark! It’s such a pleasure to meet you!” 

Elena’s whole face lights up. She happily clasps the other girl’s hand in her free one so quick and so hard that it may as well have been a sideways high-five. “Elena Rhodes! Put ‘er there!”

Ayana giggles; Elena giggles. 

They keep pumping the other girl’s hand up and down, up and down. Neither one wants to let go. They giggle some more. 

“So, uhh…I dunno who you are…” Ayana starts. 

Elena agrees. “And I dunno who you are…” 

“But it’s the weekend and so it’s Open Camp Day…” 

“…And there’s a boatload of things we can all do…” 

“…So how about we just…” 

“…Hang out for a little…” 

“…And just have fun together anyway?” 

“I like that!” Elena chirps. 

“Me, too!” Ayana trills. 

They still shake hands the whole time. 

They still giggle the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, happy holidays to everyone! 
> 
> And as always please lemme know what you think-I hope you enjoyed! :D :D


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